For Christmas Dave got me the boxed set of Little House on the Prairie books. I enjoyed reading that series when I was a kid and also the television program with Melissa Gilbert and Michael Landon. In some ways, the Little House books remind me of my own childhood, when we had the farm. There was always work feeding and cleaning up after the pigs and cows, tending the vegetable garden, trimming the fruit trees, canning and freezing fruits and vegetables, hauling and chopping wood, and so on. It was a lot of work but I didn’t mind because I felt secure in my family and having nearly everything we needed on our little farm. We didn’t have to churn our own butter or preserve the meat like the Ingalls did in Little House but I’ll bet we could have if necessary. There is security in knowing how to provide for all your needs.
Now that I live in a suburb of Los Angeles, I feel disconnected from taking care of myself, removed from those activities that directly benefit my well-being. It’s hard to grow a garden here because it’s so hot and the topsoil is only about 6” deep above the bedrock. A couple years ago I planted carrots. At harvest time, I pulled a few up and observed how they had grown down to the bedrock, turned back to the surface, then turned once again toward the bedrock. The carrots had folded themselves into a strange shape. While I admire their persistance, I gave up on gardening at that point. Well, not altogether since I do have a container garden. 
I’m experimenting with carrots, beets, kohlrabi, and lettuce in deep containers. I also have a couple of unhappy tomato seedlings in a container (not in this picture). They’re unhappy with all the rain we’ve received in the last two weeks. Still, while I can grow some things in containers, I get only a fraction of the satisfaction as having a large bountiful garden in the soil. Most of our produce and all our meat and fish come from the grocery store instead of from our garden, pasture, local beaches and rivers. Disconnect. Yes, I can take care of myself by earning a living, paying the mortgage to keep a roof over my head and buying groceries at the supermarket but I feel two or three times removed from providing for myself from actual gardening and raising animals. Then I wonder where do I draw the line? Do I want to raise cotton, harvest, process, weave, and sew for my own clothing? No but I wouldn’t mind knowing how to sew besides sewing replacement buttons on shirts.
In some ways I see myself devolving back to the farm girl I was 20 years ago. In 20 years I’ve completely rejected farming and happily had the supermarket provide so I could do other things with my time, like get an education for example. While I worked for the park service it was easy to feel connected to the land because I was working in it every day. Then I was promoted to a management position and “moved indoors”. That was seven years ago. It felt really good to be able to provide for myself with money – the mortgage, gas, groceries. But lately it seems silly to work at something for money so I can trade that money for a roof over my head and food on my table. Disconnect. I thought I had escaped my farm girl persona and evolved into a sophisticated, modern, urban woman with oodles of time on my hands to do whatever I want. What do I want to do? Can some apricot and peach preserves to put on the shelves for winter. Pick beans, lettuce, and radishes from the garden. Check the corn to see when it is ready for harvest. Shell peas, make pickles and tomato sauce. De-evolution from sophisticated urban woman with time and money on her hands to humble, honest-dirt farm wife whose husband goes to the city to work in an office.
One good thing about de-evolution is that I will always carry the knowledge I gained during evolution. I know more about the world than I ever would have if I had stayed a farm girl. I am no longer afraid of cities and strangers, ways of life that aren’t my own, different cultures, flying on airplanes, meeting the gaze of a homeless person and smiling. I am still afraid of the dark and the few strange men who give me the creeps. I am less comfortable with change than during my 20-year evolution away from being a farm girl. Neither of my personas help me there, not even the blending of personas. However, I do feel prepared to cope with most situations, the farm life and spending time in the big city, which feels like true connection. When I was a farm girl, I was afraid of the city, afraid of city people who seemed much more sophisticated and could trick and harm a naïve farm girl. Now I can have both the farm and the city. Both are necessary and unavoidable. It’s good to be if not at home then at least comfortable being a farm girl in the city when I have to.