Monday, August 01, 2005

turn the whites on

Yesterday we visited our friends on Bugtussle Biodynamic Farm. I'm so inspired my head is still swimming. They supply us with most of the food we eat during the week. They live without electricity in a handmade treehouse of pine that overlooks the purest creek that is just teeming with life; minnows, tadpoles, crayfish. They are educated, creative people that have chosen to live peacefully, naturally and to be entirely self-sufficient on their 120 plush acres of paradise.

M paddled in the creek while blowing in a bamboo reed and squealing her head off. I snuck a skinny dip and emerged fresh with all exhaustion washed away. S sat on the edge trying to pop stones in her mouth. The water was so clean you could see the bottom.

Upon dusk, we headed back to the house, tiptoeing past the 3 ft long snake that is respected enough to be allowed to stay just outside the front door. Inside, I kept waiting for my eyes to adjust to the light, but found it difficult. M went into I's room and demanded that his mother 'turn the whites on' so she could look for toys. She said 'we don't have any lights'. She contemplated that for a moment and then ran off to play.

No one wears shoes and yet can manuever the rocky landscape with ease. It seemed to us that because they are co-existing so peacefully with nature that nothing was their enemy. The land is surely fraught with copperhead snakes, the grass probably full of chiggers, yet they have never so much as been stung by a hornet (which is not true for B who got a welcoming sting) The only sound was that of crickets.

Before we left, E drove us in the old farmtruck to see the garden, the chickens and the lambs, and the daddy, mamma and baby cow. The chickens have mobile coops to insure a diet of fresh grass. I was dumbstruck when Eric reached out and called for a chicken and it actually came out of its house and walked 500 yards to his hand. I asked how they water the garden without realizing they rely only on the rain. I was thinking to myself 'who cuts all this grass?'. I didn't know a small flock of animals can eat 120 acres.

In the car, M fell asleep before we reached the mailbox (which was a mile away down a meandering slate riverbed) and B said ' I started to ask where they put their trash' and then I realized 'there is NO trash'... 'there are no bills'....

ahhh. I spent the entire day trying to clear my life of clutter.