Getting Off the Mountain

Getting Off the Mountain


Last Friday was “town” day for us. Living just off the one lane road, and having been snowbound since before December 18th, you would think we would have been suffering from the proverbial cabin fever.


Actually not. In fact, just the opposite. Going to town once in awhile, is a necessity, not a pleasure. Stuff has no fascination because living “out here” is pure bliss.

On the other hand, we do get to the point of needing a few things we can’t make or didn’t grow. I must also admit, though, to a certain belief in something that a friend noted, long years ago: “If you don’t get off the mountain once in awhile, Elora,” she admonished, “you get funny.”

So part of going to town, is designed to prevent “funniness.”


The best part of going, is that except for library books (vital for keeping us entertained and educated as the blizzard howls outside), we don’t really need all that much. A replacement elbow for the woodstove, some electricians’ tape, a printer cartridge, paper towels (used sparingly) We plan ahead for town trips, saving up our needs and resist impulse buying, doing our part to reduce consumerism to its rightful, but not prominent, place in the GDP.


Certainly, shopping till we’re dropping, isn’t entertainment. Nor is it one of life’s rewards, except when we shop at home. We shop for food by visiting the basement and by browsing the freezer where we find the abundant fruits of our last summer’s labor filling the shelves and offering wonderfully healthful eating all year long. Jars and packages filled with greens...

dried beans....

squash...

...and strawberries, plums, apples, peaches, chicken, pork, asparagus, snow peas, green beans, carrots, parsnips, beets and so much more. If truth be told, we eat better than royalty. Best of all, we know where our food came from. We get our milk, butter, and cheese totally fresh and with all the vitamins still intact, right here from our own cow; our eggs—at least most of the winter—are chicken-direct. So, other than a few off-farm necessities, we simply don’t need town very often.

Years ago, we had a system that allowed us to skip going out even for library books. It was called Mail-A-Book and was designed to serve more “remote” regions of the county using the postal service and their near zero postage rates (at the time) for library material distribution and return. Patrons could select, I believe, four books (for each family member) keep them for two weeks and return them by mail.

But long ago, the postal service went the way of becoming a “profit-making” enterprise, (and is now nearly bankrupt, I might add) and these types of book services were deemed “costly” and “inefficient.” So, like most good things which have served rural America, we have no rural “constituency” (translated, no money to pay off the powers that be) for maintaining these kinds of services. But I wonder, since when did a post office have to make a profit?? USPS stands for United States Postal SERVICE. As I recall, though, they went into the retail business, instead, selling Bugs Bunny neckties.

Oh, well. If we still had the Mail-A-Book program, we’d be back to the funniness issue. At least going to the library gets us cleaned up once in awhile! We just don’t spend very much, but at least we stay sane!

Living in the Present Moment

With all this freezing and snowing of late, and the burdens of keeping animals fed and watered, it's tempting to fall into the trap of yearning for spring and summer.  Living in the present moment and finding the rewards therein--now that is the trick! 

The infamous January thaw is licking at our heels and we respond by eagerly diving into seed catalogs.  So far this year we have received at least ten.  And those new garden gloves always do make my hands itch.

We create our lists, praying that winter will soon be over so we can start those little lives on their way to providing us with our annual food supply.  But for the moment in the midst of our euphoric myopia, we're completely oblivious to the dangers that lurk for little seeds.  Thunderstorms can wipe out an entire garden given the right conditions! 

                                                           

It's a heady, monumental task, planting, transplanting, fertilizing, watering, seeing the brave little shoots through to maturity.

 

Not to mention the hordes of buggy mouths that hide above and below the soil surface, just waiting to suck the very life out of our toddler-plants and spoil all our plans. We must keep in mind, too, that those pretty little foot tracks in the snow that we've been watching all winter, multiply and turn into dozens of voracious mouths that mow gardens and decimate dreams of grandeur.

 

Apparently, the number of gardeners has increased tremendously during these harsh economic times.  Fedco and Seed Savers--our reliable sources for non-"engineered" seeds--both say they had legions of new customers last year, the thought being that the Great Recession has inspired a surge of self-sufficiency.

But have patience.  Caress those seed catalogs only so long,  and then get busy and order your seeds right away.  Soon.  The sooner the better because last year, inventories of popular varieties were reduced to zero earlier than anticipated.

And, remember, this is the dreamy side of gardening, when the gardener can conquer anything and produce food for the whole world.  It's a lot more humbling when you realize your failings about mid-July.

So, this is the time to savor the present moment.  Bask in the feeling of complete control, for soon, way past the January thaw, you'll be thinking fondly once again of a snow-covered garden, a lively warm fire in the woodstove, soup bubbling, and lots and lots of time to read...more seed catalogs.

Fire and Ice - Part 1

Hi, folks!  It's been tough out here these past few weeks, just off the one-lane road.  My friend from the next holler over commented that since December 18, the temperature has not risen above freezing.  (We may break that cycle today!)  Day before yesterday was the clincher.  The a.m. temperature read ONE degree F. (That's minus 18 C.)!  Unheard of--at least in recent years--for this little corner of the map.

Here on this self-sufficient farm, after a night like that in the single digits, the most glorious sight is a hose with water streaming out the end.  Most times it flows freely.  However, over the past 30 years, there have been a few times when we've opened the outside spigot only to hear a sort of intestinal gurgling from deep within the bowels of the hose indicating no water anytime soon.

That puts an ominous dark shadow over the day, because we know that 20 animals of varying sizes and needs must somehow be moved to the drink, or the drink somehow must be moved to the animals.  Moving our milk cows?  No problem with three Border Collies.  Move a 650-pound sow?  Unthinkable.

Aside from carrying water to the pigs, the destination drink is down at the creek and not surprisingly, also frozen solid which means, you bring along the splitting mall.  Stock tank warmers are the easy answer and oh-so-wonderful as long as the electricity is working.  A hair dryer, too, can sometimes perform miracles and dislodge blockages in an ice-o-lated circumstance...again, providing the electric is on.

But so far so good, this winter--single digits and all.  We've kept the water flowing, and instead, I've had the time to enjoy the artistic side of frozen water down at the creek.

The Launch

OK.  Time's up.  I've stewed over my first post long enough.  So, the idea now is to close my eyes, hold my nose, and jump!

This blog is about two retirees, married 40+ years,  living a self-sufficient life "out here" on a small piece of ground, deep within Appalachia, and Just Off the One-Lane Road.  I'll share our joys and our challenges, with the hope that you will find both information and inspiration.  Even if you're not a retiree, I trust you'll still discover things you can use and enjoy.

Mostly, though, if I bring any message to this blog, it would be to live life fully, whatever your age.  As T. S. Eliot said,

"We shall not cease from exploration,

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time."

Initially, my goal was to start this journal to keep my 65-year-old mind polished up.  Admittedly though, as I remarked to a friend who has helped drag me out of the Pleistocene Age and into the unfamiliar realm of wired voices, it has, at times, felt like I was learning to drive a car by trying the heater knob and seat adjustment.

But frustrations aside, I have managed somehow at least, to burst through the doorway and am teetering on the threshhold of a whole new adventure.  I wonder where the road will lead.  Toes curled over the edge...now uncurling...Here goes...!

Oh, before I leap...one more thing:  my sincere thanks to all of you who have been my mentors, my guides, my friends, my knowledge base--for your gracious and encouraging hand up. It's been so much fun!