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The Good Life is Rife With Politics

This weekend was cold, rainy, and snowy. Not the most perfect weekend to begin springtime farm chores, but the urge was too great to resist! My Saturday task was raking up old, wet leaves from the front yard and store them in a handmade wood and wire basket for compost use. Raking is really satisfying. Not to mention I uncovered about forty bright green flower stalks, already about five inches tall, and ready to burst! I couldn’t believe they were there, to be honest–it was snowy and cold–but there they were, brave and alert. I taught myself how to bake bread, too. I’ve never actually done it for real (in my mind, cornbread or banana bread don’t really count, since with those I don’t use yeast). I made a French Boule (which wound up tasting almost like sourdough b/c I let it sit overnight), and a Sandwich White loaf, which turned out sweet (I added honey to the dough) and a tiny bit dense. Perfect for French toast, which we made this morning, using the maple syrup we gathered ourselves a couple weekends ago at Bob C’s, which by the way is practically vaporizing out of the jar we eat it so much. Life is syrupy sweet lately. The garden beds are exposed and looking plush and ready, we’re splitting wood for next year’s sugaring operation (got about a cord so far, and need three), and plotting a site for a horse trough hot tub (which is a horse trough balanced on boulders, over a fire). I can’t help but think, however, that my situation is rare among Vermont youth. The “Good Life” as it were, is not that simple. It’s rife with political, identity, and economic struggle. Actually, I’ve been in a kind of bubble since I moved here, trying to get settled, get a job, figure out a relationship, writing, the state of the world, etc. A comment on my blog kind of snapped me out of it this weekend. It was from a Vermont native, in response to my somewhat facetious question: “Where are all the other frazzled, maladjusted young people like myself?” “They left.” Says the commenter. They left. It’s on my mind: the dynamics of the rural existence. There are those who have to do it (taking over or helping out their family business), those who choose to do it (hippyish folk who flee the city, like the Back to the Landers, and I guess….me?), and those who reject it (because it’s stifling, because it’s socially inhibiting, because it’s insular). There are a large number of Vermont kids who flee their hometown, but why? Because they can’t find jobs, in many cases. Because maybe they’re sick of country-house weekenders coming up and saying “don’t sub-divide our beautiful valley!” even though they’re around like two weeks a year. Because maybe they want more music, theatre, restaurants, jobs, ethnic/racial diversity, or who knows what else. There’s a lot of political intricacies of searching for and leaving rural life, that I think I’m just beginning to unearth. I’ve ceratinly thought about it–I grew up in rural Colorado until I was eleven–but lately it’s coming to a head. On the one hand, getting closer to the land is getting closer to human existence, and on the other…it can be pretentious. How many people do you know wear Carhartts and think that’s all it takes to be rugged? Read Michael Pollan and think they know about food? It’s not unlike the city kids I know with paint splattered jeans, who don’t paint. (Also, for the record, Michael Pollan and Alice Waters are not the only people out there writing about farming and food politics. Check out Eliot Coleman, Gene Logsdon, and Derrick Jensen, to name a few). But it’s not just about image, of course. It’s a question of work, too. Those who put it in, and those who hire it out. Those who get their hands dirty, and those who don’t. And a question of time, perhaps. Those who have time to dabble, and those who work three jobs. Those who have kids, those who don’t. And on and on and on…Which isn’t to say that those with privilege are inherently lazier. Just that there is a larger possibility for choice. “Don’t get me wrong,” says the commenter, “I miss my home state quite a bit sometimes. And if I was independently wealthy, or if I were qualified to get one of the few interesting jobs that pay well in the area, I’d want to live there. But it’s a tough place to make a living, and it’s only the few that make it.” Is it possible for people like me to not swoop in and suck dry the culture of the rural? How can people who feel a connection to “the land” return to it, or come for the first time, while not destroying it or remaking it in their own image? Is it a question of seniority: those who were here first get to make the rules? Is it a question of tradition: the rules that were are the rules that should continue to be? Is it a question of democracy: the rather vague notion that anyone can do anything if they want to, because they’re free? Is it a question of money: those who have it make the law, and those who have less must follow it anyway? What do you think?

Green Fundamentalists: I’m Talking to YOU

Here’s what really amazes me. The self satisfied complacency of those who have deemed themselves politically sound, and businessally ethical, and morally resoundingly liberally spot on. Now, I’m not going to sit here and say I’m queen of the internet world when it comes to morality. I do believe using pesticides is gross, and I […] Read More..

The Raven: Mythical Creature, or Chicken Killer?

Q: Is farming ever cut and dry? A: Only when you’re haying. Apart from this dumb joke I made up, farming is not quite as simple as it sounds. I thought, for example, that raising my own meat would be easy. You know: just buy the little chicks, make sure they don’t die, feed them […] Read More..

I Don’t Want To Burn My Bra, But AAARGH!

This weekend I sat on the sidelines of the men’s soccer game. It was a big deal, and many people were there, young and old–despite the fact that it’s a pick-up league in a small town. I went sheepishly, in my dorky tie-dyed t-shirt and muck boots, to cheer my boyfriend on. I sat there, […] Read More..

Farm Update: Chicks, Piglets, Morels, and More…

It’s been nearly five months since I moved to rural Vermont from New York City–and my life has changed exponentially. Radically. Ridiculously. Healthily. Happily…so far. And I’m not trying to jinx anything. But I just celebrated my 24th birthday and I can’t believe the gift I got, the very thing I wanted, and the very […] Read More..

Biking, Lobstering and Urban Gardening: in Boston!

It was with a heavy heart I left the farm for my birthday weekend, and I looked longingly through my rearview mirror as I left for work on Friday. How could I miss the few precious days of Vermont spring? My weekend. MY WEEKEND! I wanted to sit on the porch and read. I wanted […] Read More..