I’m reading a lot about the Nearings, intensely committed folk who came from NYC to Vermont before the Back to the Land movement existed, during the depression. They were the original gangsters who left New York City in search of what they call, “The Good Life”. They’re extreme. They don’t eat bread. They don’t eat […]Read More..
When we moved to Vermont we left a society gripped by depression and unemployment, falling prey to fascism, and on the verge of another world-wide military free-for-all; and entered a pre-industrial, rural community…Instead of the hectic rush of busyness we intended a quiet pace, with time to wonder, ponder and observe. –Helen and Scott Nearing, […]Read More..
I needed somewhere to put my binder clips. They’re pesky, and scattered all over my desk. I just used up the last of my Yogi Tea bags (African Redbush Peach). And right before I tossed it in the recycling bin, I noticed the inside of the box was…beautiful. Like henna. I unglued the box and […]Read More..
It’s been two months and one week since I moved from New York City to rural Vermont, and I’m in the middle of reading Grapes of Wrath. It’s so…current. Maybe it’s the notion that something intangible runs our way of life–our food, our shelter, our land, the future of our children–and in the same way […]Read More..
I don’t think I’m alone when I say: I’m looking to save some dough. Along with other good capitalists of this nation, up until this economic crisis I’ve wasted a lot of money on things I don’t need. (Maybe I was depressed about the fact I turned the radio down every time I heard Bush’s […]Read More..
It’s March. I fled New York City two and a half months ago, and moved to the outskirts of a small town in the hills of central Vermont. I wake up each morning, look out my window, breathe in the fresh air, and think: Damn. Two months ago I was miserable and felt like life […]Read More..
About two months ago, I decided it was time to change my life. During the most historic presidential inauguration and election of my lifetime, in the throes of the worst economic recession since the Great Depression, at the emotional peak (or precipice) of my mid-twenties, from the mean streets of New York City-a Greenwich Village […]Read More..