‎"...a little 'trouty', but quite good" ~ Eve Kendall, North By Northwest

Thursday, March 12, 2009

And you may ask yourself-well...how did I get here?

I'm not sure how to break this to you.

Those of you who knew me Before the Blog are maybe already realizing that something is desperately wrong. Or desperately right. Or just desperate. For you, the last two years have been one long Chicken Little moment if ever there was one. You've probably started building a bunker or something. The rest of you? You've taken all this in stride and are blissfully unaware that the world as we know it is ending.

There, I've said it.

The world as we know it is ending because if people like me are canning tomatoes and raising chickens, well... I don't know what.

People like me go on ski vacations and subscribe to the opera and have cake and coffee at four promptly and have a fondness for music festivals that are not at a county fair. We listen to techno (sorry, Sarah, it's true). We shop at Whole Foods because it looks and sounds more delicious than the painfully pedestrian Giant. We buy organic food because it is prettier and more expensive. We buy smaller cars because they are sportier, easier to park and less likely to draw the attention of someone who needs help moving. We did not buy them because they use less gas, although that's really paying off.

What I'm trying to say here is that if The Growing of One's Own Food and the Avoidance of Stuff Accumulation is appealing to someone like me, it's obviously become a popular mindset. Like knitting.

Our chickens are two years old. The vegetable garden is going into its fourth season. How long has this mentality been shifting, anyway? And why?

Chris and I were driving through town the other day and noticed a parking lot full of unsold Christmas trees. It made us kind of sad. And then it made us kind of not sad. It made us feel like things are swinging a little more into balance.

People like me are not particularly comfortable with the idea of Doing Without. We don't like the idea of living in a yurt (although we would summer in one if it were nicely appointed and had Egyptian Cotton sheets). We don't like the idea of living off rice and beans hidden away in our basements. We do like the idea of creatively incorporating rice and beans into our meal plans, if it's our idea.

Yes, we are shallow. But we are part of something bigger. And if that something bigger involves a shiny new pressure canner and an ornamental chicken or two, so be it.

Subsistance farming. It's the new knitting.

13 comments:

Mary Alice said...

It isn't it? People are making coffee at home and letting their hair go natural. Gasp.

Lisa said...

you just made me look up the word "yurt"

And I checked with Jeff and he didn't know the word, either.
And he's smart.

Susan said...

MA - I made coffee at home today, but am not ready to let my hair go natural. Let's not get crazy here.

Lisa - we know what a yurt is and you don't? We are farther gone than I thought.

Rose Brier Studio said...

one summer, my best friend's brother lived in a yurt in the wilds of Wellfleet! I think that's where I learned about them...or was it all those anthro courses in college?

TwoBusy said...

Regardless of its nomads-on-the-Mongolian-steppes origins, "yurt" sounds like something you do after you eat bad yogurt.

Dana's Brain said...

Two Busy just made me spit my tea! Which I bought at Dunkin' Donuts - not home. So I'm only sort of there I guess. But let's get one thing straight. I am never letting my hair "go natural." Eeks!

Bella said...

unfortunately i've let my hair go...and yet i'm not ready to do my own canning. mostly because it takes so much time. if i can't do it in 15 min. it probably isn't going to turn out well.
there is a camp in the andirondacks that has a yurt as one of the rentals and is very well stocked....with egyptian cotton and all.

Lesha said...

I've let my hair go since forever. That's lazy, not enlightened, in my case. I make my own tea, but still buy my coffee. I can't make good coffee.

I let my husband do the canning.

Newt said...

Since you don't need your old life anymore, may I have it? It sounds great, and I could use a new car.

Peace Turkey said...

First of all -- Rock on with the using lyrics for the post title.

Secondly -- My hair has always been a shit-show so I'm liking this new idea of blaming it on the economy!

Lisa said...

I learned how to felt several years ago and we all joked about making a yurt as a class project. I suck at felting, though, so can't actually offer you anything if you do head the yurt direction.

Kristin said...

I ask myself that question EVERY DAY. Because people like you? That's me. Chickens, pressure canner, and all.

Susan said...

Rose - I have heard of a few people in Wellfleet living in yurts. We would be in good company.

TwoBusy - those nomads probably had lots of occasions to yurt.

dana - me too and me too.

bella - which is ironic, because it's YOUR FAULT that I even have a pressure canner. (I read that book you sent).

Lesha - If my husband canned, I would certainly let him do it.

Newt - I made our car sound more glamorous than it is. It is sportier than, say, a box truck.

PT - ha! And I have often admired your song lyric titles. Sometimes I get a song stuck in my head while I'm writing the post and nothing else will do.

Lisa - good lord, you learned how to felt? A felted yurt would be awesome. I'd be the envy of all the neighbors. As usual.

Kristin - I thought you might relate to that because I know you weren't ALWAYS the sort to filet a deer in your driveway. Still, your life at blackrock makes my little menagerie look like a windowbox garden.