Homesteading in suburbia

Today was a gorgeous day, about 80. We opened up the house and let the spring breezes in and I was inspired to head to Home Depot and pick up some bare-root strawberries, a few blackberry canes, some broccoli and spinach plants and some tomatoes for Steve. And for the first time in years, it seems, I gardened. I planted a bed of strawberries and added to the broccoli and spinach I have growing in raised beds and pots. It felt marvelous! I used to garden all the time in our old house, pre-kids, but all my nuturing energy must have been taken up by the kids these last eight years or so.
The funny thing is, I've been telling myself and anyone else who will listen for several years now that I yearn to homestead, to have a few acres of our own and grow our own food. But I've hardly done anything in our gardens during this time. There's always been the house to pick up or laundry to do and often I'm just too tired or backache-y from work. Steve, on the other hand, has built wonderful raised beds and tended his grape vines and tomatoes and watered the apple trees and kept my few plantings alive for me. I've been acutely aware of this disconnect between word and deed as I avidly devoured Mother Earth News and Countryside Magazine, daydreaming of acreage and some free-range chickens pecking through the garden beds. But I'm a fraud no more! I harvested broccoli and spinach today and I amended and planted and watered in lots more!