Monday, June 13, 2011


A number of people have wondered what has possessed us to want to move off to our own little corner of nowhere and grow stuff. I had an epiphany on the subject today while chatting with a like-minded family member (who, incidentally, introduced me to this very interesting-looking website): When I wake up in the morning, I'm dependent on the guy who made my sheets. And the one that built my windows, my roof, and my shower. I'm dependent on the guy who makes razors (on the relatively rare occasion I choose to use one), the folks that produce soap, and the ones that power my refrigerator.

I don't like that

It's not that I want to have to do all those things for myself. I'm not terribly interested in sleeping regularly on homespun sheets, keeping my milk in an ice house (and spending the winter cutting ice from ponds to stock it), or replacing thatch. But I want to know that I can do it. Does that make it sound less crazy?


  1. I want to know and appreciate the hens that lay the eggs we are eating. I want to tend and love that cow that gives us out milk (butter, cheese, and cream). I want to learn the hidden trade and secret of eating with the seasons. I want to eat the fruits and vegetable knowing that it is because of our hard work and the grace of God that we can enjoy such bounty (or the lack there of at times). That is the hidden world I hope to unlock. Full of adventure.

  2. I'm afraid Kar's comment here did a better job of dispelling the crazy, but I'm less inclined to think that of either of you. So there.

    And your 20 acres is likely the only kind of life we'd be willing to trade our temple view for.