A Thin Week on the Blog, But Nowhere Else
by Matt B. on February 14, 2010
I’ve read a little bit of Bill McKibben‘s work on building deep, local economies, but seeing it was something else entirely. Just got back from an overnight visit to D Acres, an organic farm and educational center in Dorchester, New Hampshire. The farm seeks to to serve as a demo for sustainable farming techniques in the Northeast and an example of ways that people can live more fully in concert with the environment.
It was completely lovely. We stayed in a bedroom overlooking the oxen, August and Henry, and enjoyed incredible food, beer, and tea drawn entirely from the farm’s own resources. The house – free of flush toilets, stocked with blankets for when the temperature dropped, and filled with the life of staff and guests – was one of the most comfortable places I’ve ever stayed.
Spending some time at a working organic farm changed some things for me. I’m no fan of industrial agriculture, but somehow, I’d also been unable to wrap my head around the idea that something smaller, more thoughtful, more loving, and ultimately more prudent would ever prove to be more than a fringe movement. This morning, though, we got a lengthy tour of the farm by one of its employees, Beth. She wasn’t some wild-eyed hippie escaping the rough-and-tumble world of mainstream American life. Instead, she was thoughtful, sober, deeply knowledgeable, and quietly proud of the very deliberate way she’s chosen to live her life. All of a sudden, this kind of thing seems way more plausible than I’d ever thought, and on a much wider scale.
A Thin Week on the Blog, But Nowhere Else
by Matt B. on February 14, 2010
I’ve read a little bit of Bill McKibben‘s work on building deep, local economies, but seeing it was something else entirely. Just got back from an overnight visit to D Acres, an organic farm and educational center in Dorchester, New Hampshire. The farm seeks to to serve as a demo for sustainable farming techniques in the Northeast and an example of ways that people can live more fully in concert with the environment.
It was completely lovely. We stayed in a bedroom overlooking the oxen, August and Henry, and enjoyed incredible food, beer, and tea drawn entirely from the farm’s own resources. The house – free of flush toilets, stocked with blankets for when the temperature dropped, and filled with the life of staff and guests – was one of the most comfortable places I’ve ever stayed.
Spending some time at a working organic farm changed some things for me. I’m no fan of industrial agriculture, but somehow, I’d also been unable to wrap my head around the idea that something smaller, more thoughtful, more loving, and ultimately more prudent would ever prove to be more than a fringe movement. This morning, though, we got a lengthy tour of the farm by one of its employees, Beth. She wasn’t some wild-eyed hippie escaping the rough-and-tumble world of mainstream American life. Instead, she was thoughtful, sober, deeply knowledgeable, and quietly proud of the very deliberate way she’s chosen to live her life. All of a sudden, this kind of thing seems way more plausible than I’d ever thought, and on a much wider scale.