(repost) :: i am my wife's ornamental hermit (and i feel fine)

in

(This was originally shared here last July, but given that summer is once again upon us and I am back to my hacking and digging and mowing and leveling ways, I felt it was an opportune time to revisit…)

There’s something about the life of the 18th century ornamental hermit — which, according to Atlas Obscura…

While some gardeners might now throw in a gnome statue among their flowers and shrubberies, back in the 18th century wealthy estate owners were hiring real people to dress as druids, grow their hair long, and not wash for years. These hired hermits would lodge in shacks, caves, and other hermitages constructed in a rustic manner in rambling gardens. It was a practice mostly found in England, although it made it up to Scotland and over to Ireland as well.

— speaks to me: I feel, as I wander our backyard in the AC, a certain kinship with the gentleman pictured above. I would totally live in one of those “hermitages constructed in a rustic manner in rambling gardens”; I pretty much already do. I have found, then, my life goal; little did I know I was already living it.

(Plus, the bit about not speaking to anyone for seven years sounds fantastic. The not bathing part, eh, not so much. Still, sacrifices must be made.)