Pair my favorite magazine with vintage and handmade goods, plop 'em down at a county fairground, and I'm there. That's my place. Those are my people.
When I heard this year's Country Living Fair would be here in Nashville (actually, Lebanon—a little east of Nashville), I knew it was finally my chance to go. And since Kyle wasn't too eager to come along with me, my friend Cailyn volunteered! We gathered up lots of inspiration for our someday houses, that's for sure. (Sorry, husbands.)
I left with a white wicker rocking chair and essential body oil from a goat farm and soaking wet clothes. Successful Saturday, if you ask me.
It sprinkled, then rained, then downright poured as we rambled and browsed the booths at Wilson County Fairgrounds. Cailyn's white Converse sneakers were soaking wet and not-so-white five minutes in, and I thought it would be a good idea to leave my umbrella in the car, but we made lemonade outta lemons, and that's what counts!
Details make me happy. Like china in hay and tulips in wellies.
Vintage plaid chairs also make me happy.
As we walked through one of the buildings, Cailyn and I heard a guy start talking into a microphone. He began his story telling about life in NYC as an investment banker, and the day he met the most beautiful girl in the world in the toilet paper aisle at the Duane Reade near his apartment. With that, we were hooked.
Plus, we saw there were roughly five people in the audience at the time, so we sat down to make seven. (Because public speaking is scary, and we wanted to do our part, ya know?)
Before long, more people found their way to the chairs near the stage, and we were glad we sat down, too. Long story short, the beautiful girl he met while buying toilet bowl cleaner at a New York City convenience store became his wife, and they moved to Lebanon, TN to start a goat farm from scratch—Little Seed Farm. And that little farm is now a pretty big deal. (Check out a cute video about it here!)
Nothing inspires me more than people who are brave enough to start over. Brave enough to try. To imagine a different life, and live it. Eileen and James Ray are the brave kind, let me tell you. (And their Rosemary Patchouli body oil is pretty fantastic, too.)
Standing bass and a banjo. Because, Nashville.
I've thrown around the word "inspiring" quite a bit, and I repeatedly talk about someday-dreams on this blog.
Honestly? It makes me a little nauseous how often I ambiguously jabber about hopes for the future. So, let me tell you the what and the why. Let me give you all the specifics I have. Because, I've said it before, we're about honesty here.
1. I don't think I'm an office-job-'til-retirement kinda girl. It's practical for now, and it's a big blessing, but this ex-4-Her needs to get her hands dirty and wear overalls and wellies. And while my employer wouldn't be opposed, I think I'll save that wardrobe for my someday gig.
2. What's this someday gig? I'm still figuring that out. But I've been reading up on beekeeping over the past couple of years, which may be more of a hobby than a gig. Regardless, the moment we have a little plot of land, we'll have bees. And that's that. Possibly beef cattle, too. And while we're at it, a couple of horses. Oh, and probably babies. The human kind.
3. With this wellie-wearing dream gig, I want to make things beautiful, and make beautiful things: our house, this blog, and other things as well, but I don't know what it all looks like yet. There ya go, more ambiguity. But, hey! It's ambiguous honesty.
4. Kyle and I both have entrepreneurial spirits. We'd love to start our own business someday, whether it be online or brick and mortar. Kyle's the practical business guy. I'm the gal who likes to dream up lofty ideas. It works out pretty well for us.
As 20-somethings, we aren't in a place where we know for certain what's next. We don't have much control. We can't plan more than a few months in advance for hardly anything, and I can't tell you without a doubt where we'll be living in a year. That's the honest truth. This someday-gig might be years and years down the road, but for now, I'm scribbling in notebooks and makin' plans.
So there you have it.