A Nostalgia For Simple Living

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(Updated January 1, 2026)

Lately, I have an acute nostalgia for simple living, like it was when I was a child in the sixties. Things were easier back then, and our lives were less complicated.

But how could that be? We had none of the modern conveniences we have now.

Everyone moved more slowly back then. But everything got done one way or another.

The food got cooked. Cobblers were baked with the blackberries picked from the garden. Vegetables were grown, picked, and brought in to cook meals—fresh and pesticide-free.

Simple Living:

The chickens were fed. I gathered the eggs, hurrying to get from the hen house back to the gate without the rooster pecking my skinny legs.

Sometimes a chicken was killed so we could eat fried chicken.

Food tasted so good back then. But then there were no additives. We mostly ate food from the garden, which was canned for winter meals. The jars were stored on rustic shelves in the old cellar and retrieved when needed.

We didn’t have an automobile. At the time, I thought that was terrible. But now I’m glad I got to live that kind of life. There was no oil to change or tires to check. It was so uncomplicated.

We walked almost everywhere, from town to town. If we needed to go to a nearby city, we took the bus.

How did all that get done if there wasn’t a car to rush us places? I find that curious now, when I’m feeling a nostalgia for simpler living.

How To Live Old-Fashioned On Purpose:

Yesterday I stumbled upon a book, and then the author’s blog. The book is “Old-Fashioned On Purpose.” I thought that title was quite clever.

Back when I was young, I’d never have wanted to be old-fashioned on purpose. Now it’s a way of life many wish to embrace.

About The Book Old-Fashioned On Purpose:

When the pandemic hit in 2020, flour and vegetable seeds flew off the shelves. But homesteader and entrepreneur Jill Winger believes these longings for sourdough bread and fresh veggies are more than a trend.

As our society races toward progress, we’ve left something important behind. We are more connected than ever before, yet we’re still feeling unfulfilled.

In Old-Fashioned on Purpose, Winger demonstrates how simplifying our lives and adopting retro skills, such as gardening and handiwork, can be the key to creating the happy and healthy life we yearn for. Inside these pages, readers will learn:

• How to find joy in the kitchen (even if you hate to cook)
• Proven strategies for growing your own groceries
• The surprising stress-relievers that can be found in your backyard
• How to craft a more grounded routine and save money in the process
• Clever tips and creative DIYs to help you embark on your old-fashioned journey

You don’t have to live on a farm to cultivate a simpler life. This inspiring and practical book offers a powerful new sense of purpose, with plenty of tomatoes, chickens, and bread making along the way.

You can usually learn something from someone else—what to do, what not to do. Glean knowledge from their observations and put it to work in your own life.

A Nostalgia For Simple Living:

I live a pretty simple life as it is. It’s a good life. I’d rather be home than anywhere in the world. My beloved cat, Ivy, is a great companion to have by my side.

I must have adopted that simplicity in childhood, when we rarely left home. Home was comforting, with so much work my grandmothers accomplished in a day.

Plant the garden and weed it. Pick vegetables from the garden and cook them. Create three homemade meals a day.

I didn’t realize what a big deal that was at the time. But I sure do now.

Breakfast was typically served with gravy and biscuits, accompanied by eggs and sausage. Lunch was often leftovers from the evening before. Then more food was cooked for supper. And the cycle continued.

During the summer, sliced tomatoes, cucumbers, and onions were laid out on the table. All these things were fresh from the garden.

It seemed so simple, but I didn’t appreciate it at the time.

A Nostalgia for What Home Is:

Home is not just where you live. It is where you play out and tell your story. It’s where you chronicle your decisions and mistakes.

Then you get up the next day and start a new page or chapter.

Home is where you turn those pages, looking back as you step forward.

Nostalgia for simple living is that quiet ache for a time when life felt slower, gentler, and more grounded. It’s the yearning for mornings that began with sunlight through curtains instead of screens, for handwritten letters instead of text messages, and meals made from scratch.

It’s the memory of a home where comfort came not from abundance, but from familiarity. A worn quilt, the smell of bread baking, the rhythm of daily chores that tethered you to the present moment.

This kind of nostalgia isn’t just about the past—it’s about the longing for peace in a world that feels too fast, too loud, too full of distractions. It’s the desire to return to what feels real and human, such as tending to a garden, sitting on a porch at dusk, or savoring a day that isn’t rushed.

At its heart, nostalgia for simple living is a gentle reminder that joy doesn’t need chasing. Joy can be found even in the smallest, most ordinary moments.