A Little Dirt Never Hurt: Why We Chose This Life For Our Kids

Homesteading, growing our own food, working the land with our own two hands, raising animals — we aren’t just doing it because we love it. We’re doing it because we believe this life has something important to offer our kids. We’re doing it to build a better world for our kids.

For us, this life is about offering them something that feels harder and harder to find these days: a childhood rooted in the rhythms of nature. A life that moves a little slower, a little quieter, and a lot closer to the land.

Out here, life moves with the seasons instead of the clock. Spring brings babies and planting. Summer brings long days and dirt under your nails. Fall smells like hay, leaves, and harvest. Winter slows everything down and reminds you to rest.

We want our kids to grow up knowing those rhythms. We want them to know the feeling of soil in their hands and the quiet pride that comes from caring for something and watching it grow.

We want them to understand responsibility, gratitude, and hard work — not just because someone told them those things matter, but because they’ve lived them.

We want them to know that every life has meaning. That caring for animals teaches patience, gentleness, and sometimes heartbreak. That life and loss are both part of the same story. That the circle of life includes both beauty and heartbreak. All of it matters.

And most of all, we want them to grow up knowing that if you respect the land and listen to it, it will provide in ways you never expected.

Remembering Our Own Childhood

When we found out we were pregnant with our daughter, we started talking about the things that mattered most to us growing up. The memories that shaped who we are, and the kind of childhood we hoped our children would experience.

The world has changed so much since we were kids. And sometimes, if I’m being honest, it makes us a little sad...and a little scared.

Now, everything seems to revolve around screens, social media, and whatever new gadget comes next. Kids don’t spend their days outside the way they used to. They don’t get dirty. They don’t stay out until well past dark playing with friends, building forts, sitting around campfires and making s’mores.

But when we were kids, the outdoors were as much a part of us as our own DNA.

We built forts deep in the woods — some of them still standing today. We wandered through the woods looking for the perfect sticks to add to our collections of “swords”.

In the fall, we’d laugh our way through a corn maze with our friends. And in the summer, we’d eat tomatoes straight from the garden — sun-warmed and split open, dirt still clinging to them — and they were the best things we had ever tasted.

We had bonfires that lasted late into the night. Sticky fingers from melted marshmallows and chocolate. Smoke clung to our hair and clothes, but nobody cared.

Everything we did was outside and we were beyond happy.

We didn’t care how we looked. We didn’t care how dirty we got. We laughed, we ran wild, and we soaked up every moment of it.

County Fair Summers

And every summer, we lived for our week-long county 4-H fair.

If you grew up around livestock and 4-H, you know the feeling. That week of the year when everything revolves around the fairgrounds. Early mornings feeding animals. Long afternoons playing cards with friends under the barns. The smell of shavings, feed, and summer heat.

And when the last day finally came, we all piled into the greased watermelon contest. Freshly decorated shirts adorned with spray paint and the name of the barn we were representing - goats, swine, beef, dairy, etc. Kids sliding through water and straw, trying to keep a hold of that greased watermelon while everyone else laughed and yelled from the sidelines.

By the end of it, we were covered in manure, grease, and shavings — and we’d rinse off in the wash racks like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Looking back, those were some of the best days of our lives. We didn’t care how we looked. We didn’t care how dirty we got. We were just kids — outside, together, living.

The Simple Cure: Go Outside

When we started imagining the childhood we wanted for our own kids, one thing became very clear: we wanted them to grow up outside.

If you’re bored — go outside.

If you’re sad — go outside.

If you’re mad — go outside.

If there’s one thing life has taught me, both growing up and raising kids of my own, it’s that the outdoors has a way of settling the soul when life feels overwhelming. Nature has a way of grounding us. It reminds us what really matters. It reminds you that the world is much bigger than whatever problem feels heavy in the moment.

When our daughter was little — and later when our son was a newborn — there were nights when nothing seemed to calm them down. So we’d do the one thing that always worked: we’d step outside.

Sometimes we’d walk the property at two in the morning, the house quiet behind us and the stars overhead, the animals resting, the world still and peaceful. More often than not, those little nighttime walks worked like magic. And there is something deeply peaceful about being outside when the world is asleep.

Choosing a Different Path

After a lot of long talks and reflecting on the kind of childhood we both cherished, we came to a realization: Arizona simply couldn’t give our kids the life we had been dreaming about for them.

We wanted open space. Room to roam. Woods to wander and fields to run through barefoot. We wanted them to build snow forts in the winter and jump in puddles after summer rains. We wanted them to experience the responsibility and excitement of the county fair. We wanted them to grow up caring for animals and learning the responsibility that comes with it. We wanted them to learn life lessons from them — even the hard ones. And we wanted to give them the freedom to grow up a little wild… a little feral… a little free-range.

And more than anything, we wanted them to grow up in a place where those good old

Midwestern values still run deep — where people work hard, show up when it matters, and help their neighbors without ever needing to be asked.

Our Kids, Their Childhood

This life isn’t for everyone and that’s okay.

The Midwest isn’t for everyone either, and that’s okay too.

I’m not here to tell anyone how they should live, where they should live, or how to raise their kids. I’m simply sharing what works for us and why we chose this life.

Out here, our kids spend every chance they get outside. They wander alongside the chickens. They lay in the pasture with the goats. They climb up beside the horses.

They play in mud, dirt, grass — and sometimes even the stalls. They’ve watched goats being born. They help plant the garden. They help harvest it too. They run barefoot across the yard. They sit with us around the bonfire while we toast marshmallows and make s’mores.

And when they’re old enough, they’ll have the opportunity to join 4-H and show the animals they’ve grown to love and care for.

They’re healthy. They’re happy. And they’re learning lessons that simply can’t be taught through an Instagram post or even inside a classroom.

They’re truly living and learning everything that comes with it.

A Little More Dirt, A Lot More Connection

The funny thing is, in a world that’s more connected than ever, we were feeling more

disconnected.

But out here, something different happens. Something beautiful and raw.

By stepping away from some of the noise, we’ve found a deeper connection.

Connection to the land.

Connection to the animals.

Connection to each other.

Sometimes the best childhood you can give a kid is a little freedom, a lot of fresh air, and

a little dirt.

And honestly…

A little dirt never hurt.