Country life is contagious.

Sometimes it just takes a little patience and some gentle nudging to appreciate--

There's something wrong with my husband, folks ... but you can bet that I'm not eager to find a cure!

It's been nearly four years since I married this "townie" and drug him off to the old homeplace. Seemed like I could hardly ever pry him away from the remote and the recliner the first year or so, but then something started to happen. Oh, it was slow and insidious, but I've finally caught on to what's been goin' on under my very nose!

First, I started finding him sitting on the porch glider with his coffee, chuckling at the antics of the hummingbirds during their mating dance. He'd always helped Pop with the mowing, but I noticed that when he was on the tractor, the areas being mowed were getting larger--and he remarked that his hay fever wasn't nearly as bad as it had been in town. Soon, he began riding round the farm on his four wheeler (formerly reserved for racing only) and commenting, "You know, if we cut down a few trees and made a couple of little log bridges, we could have a real nice path for the four wheeler and for faking walks."

So, it came to pass that we got into the habit of taking a half-mile walk around the place in the evenings that I was off work. "Excellent cardiovascular exercise," the former gym rat told me. Funny thing though, the walks started getting longer and the tempo slowed way down as he began pointing things out. "Wow! Look at the size of those deer tracks! And those are coon--we'll have to watch out for them when the sweet corn gets ready." and "Hey, let's walk back by the lake and see if the beaver dam is still there."

He'd occasionally wander out to the garden, coffee mug in hand, to help me carry in my basket of veggies; and he was sure no slouch at putting away fresh strawberry shortcake, roastin' ears and tomatoes when he pulled up to the table. But my attempts to get him involved in other homesteading activities met with stubborn resistance. "Chickens? Did you say cheekens?! We don't need no steenking cheekens!"

Then last spring, I got him to put up my clothesline with only a minimal amount of complaining. I'd like to think it was the smell of the line-dried sheets that convinced him, but more likely it was the saving of electricity dollars! This summer, after a walk through the critter pens at our local 4-H fair, "Would you look at the size of that rooster!" he said--and after seeing the grins on the faces of three young kids as I handed them crisp green bills in exchange for their blue ribbon Rhode Island Reds and Australorp chickens, well, let's just say that he and Unc built a chicken tractor with only a little bit-of muttering. "Good thing this is supposed to be a chicken tractor, 'cause I'm a wrench monkey, not no carpenter." I made such a big deal out of my wonderful chicken house, he went ahead and built a hutch for Sis's bunny (which somehow came along with the chicken deal) all by himself--and he even made it so it would fit over the beds in my garden!

He's almost stopped whimpering about me using his sporty red truck to haul manure and wood chips--in fact, he's taken to hauling home wooden crates and pallets from work, and proudly led me out to show me the fence posts and fencing that he had hauled home for my birthday!

This past fall, he dug around in the shed and pulled out an old wood stove that he installed in his shop. I carried out an old upholstered rocker and nowadays I often find him sitting with his boots propped by the stove, gazing out the windows at our west field.

Now he gathers the eggs when it's his turn to do the chores and dutifully notes the number on the calendar--and chews me out if I forget to write mine down. We had to buy town eggs for a couple of weeks or so, and he commented on the difference between our eggs and town eggs and asked, "How many more chickens do you think we'd need so we wouldn't ever have to buy town eggs? I'd like enough so we could take some in town to Mom, too." and "I'm going to stop by Rural King to pick up some dog food, I'll see if their chicks are in yet--did you know there are baby chicken feeders in the attic of the shed? I'll get 'em down so you can get 'em cleaned up." I explained about straight run chicks and he was amazed to learn you could buy baby chicks by mail. I left him happily perusing the Murray McMurray web site as I went off to work.

Last evening, we were at the grocery store and he refused to buy green beans, "They don't taste like the ones you canned." Later on I was paging through the seed catalogs and making out my seed order when he surprised me by picking up a catalog and saying, "I want to grow some of those little tomatoes like Sis buys at the store. Can we grow honeydew melons? Hey look, here's spaghetti squash! You aren't going to plant as much zucchini next year, are you? Are we going to plant pumpkins for the cheerleaders to sell? What kinds of beans do we plant? I didn't know you could grow celery! What's kohlrabi taste like?" Something told me my seed order just doubled!

Now, I've got a notion to start a worm bed down by the water heater, and I'm hearing, "Worms?! You got 30 acres of worms out there! Why do we have to grow worms in the basement?!" Reckon I'll print up some vermiculture information from the COUNTRYSIDE forum and leave it out by his rocker--on top of that tub I picked up at the discount store; you know--right next to that bag of shredded newspapers!

So all you folks whose families are resistive to the Countryside lifestyle--take heart! It may be a long incubation period, but this lifestyle is contagious!