Tag: Thoreau

Welcome, Spring.

~ Crystal Sands ~ 5 Comments

Day 315 of 365

“One attraction to coming to the woods to live was that I should have leisure and opportunity to see the spring come in.”
~Henry David Thoreau, Walden

Today, we welcome spring! Today is also the first day in 7 days that I can move my head and right arm without extreme pain. Today, I am grateful beyond words.

I have been unable to write much, but for the past week, I have had only a short window of time each day in which I could move and function normally. And, while the first round of tests did not reveal the cause of my chronic pain and I have another round of tests coming on Wednesday, I am pretty sure I am better today thanks an amazing amount of support from Ron and the wisdom of women in my inner circle, many of whom have experienced similar episodes or know someone who has. Though I will continue to pursue a diagnosis, I am better today thanks to wise women who have recommended diet and lifestyle changes that I will, without fail, need to enact permanently. Our family eats a fairly clean diet because of the farm, but it is about to get cleaner. One of my challenges with this new diet is to stay true to my goals to eat locally, but I will share what I learn and share what happens because I have always believed food is medicine and now understand this more deeply.

Of course, there are other medicines, and that is where I need the most work. Slowing down is critical, and though it seems counter-intuitive to write about the importance of slowing down on the first day of spring when everything is really just starting to get busy once again, today, I am making a promise to myself that I will slow down and that I will make sure I take the time to watch the spring come in.

I will watch the ducks get excited and chatter, as they shift from being “hunkered down” for winter to being so happy there are spots of ground in the snow where they can dig in their bills and busy themselves. And, of course, as the snow melts and mud season comes to Maine, I will remember to watch the ducks enjoy mud season, like only a duck can, and will be joyous when the ducks lay their first egg. Last year, the first one came March 21. There will not be big clutches of baby chicks this year, as we have decided we will not grow our flock this spring and summer, but I will have to let Ruby hatch one or two babies. I look forward to baby chicks. Ron has planted the first seeds in a new grow room he built, and I check with him every day to see if the onions have sprouted yet and if the broccoli and cauliflower will follow soon. I love when the seedlings burst forth from the soil and reach toward the light in hope.

Some things will be changing in terms of Farmer-ish. It seems my body has made it clear I had better start changing things in my life. This last week, as I sat with the pain and tried to figure out how in the world to not think about it, the only thing that felt important to me was my health and time with my family. This is the first Spring Equinox in a long time in which I have no journal issue to share with you and the world. In some ways, it makes me very sad, but in other ways, it just feels like an opportunity for a new beginning.

Right now, my plan is that this year, 2023, will be the last year for Farmer-ish journal for a while. I am going to continue blogging at least until I finish my initial goal of 365 and maybe beyond that, as the writing helps me grow as a person–as writing does, of course.

The 2023 print annual will be the last, I think. I have some wonderful people willing to help me, and we will go out in style. We will, of course, finish the poetry contest and publish a beautiful collection of Winter Solstice poetry, but there will be no more online issues on the Solstices and Equinoxes, except for the Farmer-ish Kids issue, which I have decided to push back until the Winter Solstice to give me more time to heal before I dig into an online issue one last time.

I have this hope that I can use what I have learned from this experience and continue to publish the work of others in some way, but that is something to work on for later. I will also be updating the site to showcase more of the amazing content we have. There are so many stories, so much education, so much to share. The podcast will be shut down for now, though I may make a helpful YouTube video every now and then as I learn to can with a pressure canner and learn how to eat clean with an emphasis on foods from Maine.

The Equinox is a time of transformation, and I believe in my bones that this is what my crow signs were telling me–that it’s time to transform–to grow into something different–hopefully something stronger. I am so thankful to all of you who have supported this creative endeavor since we began in 2020. I have learned so much about people, farming, nature–and I have met some of the most amazing people on the planet. Hopefully, I have done some good for others too. I know I have some writers who got started with Farmer-ish and just took off in the world, and I hope I have inspired at least a few people to think about their food and where it comes from. And I surely hope I have inspired more respect for chickens.

But I have so much work to do on myself right now that there is not room for much more. Trauma must be addressed, and rest must be had. And I have to slow down and enjoy the spring and summer and fall and all that comes with the beautiful cycles of life. I need to breathe it–and let it heal me.

If you are reading these words and need to heal too, join me. We’ll get this figured out together. The world can be tough. Let’s make a soft space together. I’ll keep telling chicken stories to anyone who wants to listen.

Poetry Sunday

~ Crystal Sands ~ 1 Comment

Day 279 of 365

Today is the Super Bowl. I grew up in a culture that worshipped football (Texas), but I am not even sure who is in the Super Bowl this year. I think it is Philadelphia because I have a Facebook friend who lives in Philadelphia, and she has been very excited.

I do know it is also Poetry Sunday. I first learned about this about five years ago, and it’s always on Super Bowl Sunday. You are supposed to share poetry on social media. It’s surprising, I know, but Poetry Sunday hasn’t taken off the way Super Bowl Sunday has, but I feel like any excuse to celebrate poetry is a good one. Since I am married to a farmer/poet, I wanted to share one of my favorite poems from the journal.

You can also explore so many beautiful and interesting poems on the Poetry page of the journal. One of the things that makes me so proud of Farmer-ish is that there are not many places that will publish poems about chickens and wood boxes, but these things are very important.

I hope you enjoy. Happy Poetry Sunday!

A Deliberate Life
by James Sands

I will take this path, then,
bare, leading to not quite austere,
not quite bereft, not quite alone

I will take what coin I have to spend,
my allotment of time as human,
beyond the artifice of men

And I will be mine own Thoreau,
take pleasure in my own garden,
the sound of stone on my own hoe

I will watch, and I will ponder
as seasons begin and seasons end,
and then again and again

I will wonder how trees
feel about wind, if it depends
on the measure of storm

And I will cleave to the earth
where I will grow—like all
to return when I end

A Book Party

~ Crystal Sands ~ 3 Comments

156 of 365

I am grading so many essays tonight. I just had three writing courses end, so it’s Thursday–extra. But I wanted to write a quick note tonight to encourage everyone who might see this to join us tomorrow night for an online book party. It’s the first of several events we have lined up to celebrate our print annual–and all things farmer-ish. It’s tomorrow night, October 14, at 7:30 PM ET. And here is the direct Zoom link: https://us06web.zoom.us/j/81298558102?pwd=ZENBbWhxeTRiZVgzcmNINEQ1L0Rydz09. If you are asked for a password, use this: farmer-ish

And, since I have been reading my introduction to the annual to practice for tomorrow night, for a quote tonight, I am quoting myself. This is from the introduction to the book. It says a lot about who we are and what’s in the book. I hope to see you at the book party tomorrow night if you can make it. The writers sharing their work are just magnificent. I know you will love them. Plus, there will be prizes.

In 2020, when the world locked down, I noticed a flurry of essays about Henry David Thoreau and what he could teach us about solitude. This made some sense to me, but Thoreau was not as isolated as some would think. After all, he said himself that he had three chairs in his cabin at Walden—“one for solitude, one for friendship, three for society.” Thoreau was close to his family and friends and saw them often. And, after some time living at Walden, people would gather at Walden to hear Thoreau talk about his experiences.

I find it is now, as we are dealing with societies stressed by climate change, that Thoreau has the most to teach us. Thoreau’s themes of social justice, environmentalism, human and animal rights, and frugality resonate with me more than ever. It is through the writing of people like Thoreau that I find comfort and hope as humans navigate a time of great challenge. Rivers are drying up. Crops are failing. Without water, farmers are being forced to sell animals they can no longer care for. It’s a stressful time for sure, but humans are resilient. I have to believe we can do better and be better. For me, Thoreau leads the way. 

Just last month, I had the honor of visiting Walden Pond in Concord. My son and I hiked around the pond to the site of Thoreau’s original cabin. There, in the woods, an idealist who loved nature and wanted to make sure technology didn’t advance without concern for humans and the environment, set out to live differently, deliberately—and write about it. Visiting the site, touching the ground, and putting my feet into the pond was transformative. I am no Thoreau, but I have collected for you beautiful writing from skilled and talented writers who, much like Thoreau, are finding ways to live authentically and are willing to write about it for us. 

Apples: Part I

~ Crystal Sands ~ 1 Comment

Day 141 of 365

I was in graduate school before I learned that the Bible doesn’t actually say that Eve ate an apple. It just says she ate a fruit, and I had always thought it was an apple. In art, it’s always the apple. It turns out John Milton, author of the epic poem, Paradise Lost, published in 1667 about the fall of man, said it was an apple. I guess that stuck. Maybe it’s because we really like the aesthetic of apples.

photo credit: Vera De, Unsplash

I have often wondered about this, when a food has an aesthetic we love so much that it becomes a central part of art or decoration in our culture. I wonder about eggs in this same way. Why are eggs so beautiful to me? And I am not alone. Every chicken lady I know spends way too much time taking pictures of eggs and then sharing said pictures on social media. Are the eggs beautiful to us because of something deep inside of us on a primitive level? Eggs are so full of nutrition. Maybe that’s why I love them so, or are they just beautiful?

With apples, I have to believe that their beauty plays a big role in our love for them, but they are nutritious–perhaps not as life giving as the egg–but still. Of course, there’s also hard apple cider, so I supposed apples bring us joy and give humans something in that way too.

This week, our family will go pick apples at a small local orchard. I love picking apples. We have wild apples that grow on our property, which we do not eat, and we planted two apple trees a few years ago. But, so far, the planted apple trees have yet to produce. It could be we have done something wrong for them. Ron and I have much to learn about fruit trees. It’s an area of weakness in our homesteading knowledge, but the pear trees produce most years and were planted just one year before the apple trees.

It’s okay though because we can visit the orchard, and the whole experience is wonderful to me. We will pick a bunch oaf apples. I will make apple pies, apple crisps, and we invented a family treat where I make homemade tortillas and then fill them with cooked apples and cheddar cheese. They are wonderful to me! We will also freeze many bags of apples for future apple pies, apple crisps, and our apple tortilla invention. I wonder if other people would like these. Maybe I will share the recipe. During the pandemic, we had a terrible storm that knocked down or broke many of the big trees on our property. Ron hired a “tree guy” to come in with his team and take down the dangerous trees. It was a group of young men, and they were so sweet and kind. So we made all of them snacks, which included our apple tortilla invention. They seemed to love them. I don’t think they were just being polite. But I digress.

Apples were the first food I fell in love with for its history. If you have not read Michael Pollan’s The Botany of Desire, I highly recommend his chapter on apples. It was a life changer for me. Of course, there is also Henry David Thoreau’s essay “Wild Apples” published in The Atlantic in 1862. Oh, how I wish The Atlantic still published essays on apples. Well, maybe Thoreau said all there was to say.

I have to admit that Thoreau would be ashamed of me that I don’t eat the wild apples on our property, but after rereading his essay this week, I think we should at least get a press and make cider. But then what would the deer eat? Maybe the deer are willing to share?

Walden

~ Crystal Sands ~ 1 Comment

Day 80 of 365

It’s hard to describe how much Thoreau has influenced my life, but Walden was a life changer for me when I read it for the second time in my mid 30s. Then, a few years ago, I read Laura Dassow-Walls biography of Thoreau, and my life was changed again. I fell in love with this human who lived so long ago. I knew and understood him from Dassow-Walls’ magnificent biography, and I became more interested in ever in visiting Walden Pond. Last summer, I devoted a whole issue of Farmer-ish to Thoreau. The essays in this issue are magnificent to me. I published another essay on Thoreau for a separate publication, and I had the honor to interview Laura Dassow-Walls. She was just as awesome as I had hoped and helped me understand that Thoreau was just as awesome as I had hoped.

Still, I thought it would be years before I would be able to visit Walden.

Today, however, we were on our way to take our son to a museum in Massachusetts. The museum is west of Boston. On our way, I started seeing signs for Concord. The reality of how close we might be came over me in almost a panic. We had not planned to visit Walden Pond, but we were going to be so close.

I starting Googling directions and hours for the park and then asked Ron if we could do it. He hates driving on such long trips, so I was unsure. When he said, “Just read the directions to me after the museum,” I started to cry a little bit.

I have to tell you that spending 2 and 1/2 hours in the war museum just about killed me. I had to get out of there, but I hid my anxiousness. Our son loves world history and is fascinated by World War I and II, so I hid my anxiousness. It was hard though.

When we first arrived at Walden, we couldn’t find where to park. Again, my anxiousness was epic. Finally, finally, we found parking, and finally, finally, finally, after 20 years of deep study of Henry David Thoreau’s life and work, after living my life according to the principals of his teaching–at least as I understand them–I walked up to the shore of Walden Pond.

I took off my shoes and felt the water. It was crowded on the front side of the park though, and I knew I needed to see the good stuff. I got out the map and found where we needed to go to see the site of Thoreau’s original cabin–the cabin I have imagined in my head for my entire adult life.

We had not eaten since a very early breakfast. We had no water since early morning. But we hiked in the heat and humidity away from all the people, and we made it to the site.

I broke down and cried. I touched the dirt with my hands. I stood next to the site of the original chimney. Our son, who had been complaining a bit about the hike in the heat with no water suddenly understood the power of the moment for me. He hugged me. He reached down and touched the soil too. He doesn’t know Thoreau like I do, but he loves me, and I was so excited to see him reading the signs and instructional posts in the area.

When we finished, we went to the gift shop, and it was hard to control myself. I got a t-shirt and too many books and Thoreau and Son pencils for Farmer-ish readers–and I talked to the shop keeper. At first, she was kind of short with us, but as we lingered and my son charmed her and I talked to her about my love of Thoreau, she warmed to us.

She asked me, “Did you make it to the original site?”

“We did,” I replied. And I teared up again and put my hand on my heart.

She looked at me so kindly then and said, “I was the same way my first time.”

Today, I put my feet in Walden Pond. Today, I saw the site where Thoreau lived. I saw his cove in the pond. And I saw a chipmunk on the trail! One day soon, I will have to tell you with this was so significant. But it’s a long story. For now, I am tired but feeling more fortunate than words can possibly express.

Today was a religious experience for me.

Happy Walden Pond Day!

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment

Day 56 of 365

On July 4, 1845, Henry David Thoreau moved to a tiny cabin on Walden Pond in order “to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”

Wikimedia Commons photo

On this July 4, at first, I thought about my disillusionment and the mourning I felt for the liberties of clean air, clean water, wholesome food, and bodily autonomy that have been taken from us.

But, then, I remembered that July 4 was the day Thoreau moved to the woods of Walden Pond, and I remembered Thoreau gave me a path to an independence of sorts that is as outside as I can get of a corrupt system with a government that allows big business to poison us, to kill us, and big religion to divide us–ALL in the name of profit and power.

Today, I celebrate Henry David Thoreau and an environmental movement that, despite the Supreme Court’s ruling last week against environmental protections, continues to live–and thrive in many ways.

I celebrate July 4 as a day of environmentalism, as a day to remember that we are a part of Nature and that Nature is a part of us. When we separate ourselves from Nature, we make it easier for those would wish to destroy it in the name of greed to do so. Nature is our home. The birds in the trees are our brothers and our sisters, and clean water, fresh air, and good soil are essential to all of our lives.

Today, I cannot celebrate “freedom” in America because too many of us are not free. But, today, I can celebrate Thoreau for helping to open my eyes and the eyes of so many others who continue to be inspired by a human who was flawed but striving, as we all should be, I think, to treasure and protect Nature because it’s the source of everything for us.

Today, a young man, perhaps an idealist, went to the woods, and he wrote about his experiences and tried to make a difference in the short life he lived.

Happy Walden Pond Day, friends!