SELF-INSUFFICIENCY.

Hannah and I are not survivalists. Not on purpose, at least. We did not move to the country for fear that the world would collapse and we'd need to be self-sufficient. Sure, we thought it would be good to know how to grow our own food, but not necessarily because we felt we'd ever have to, but because, well, we're curious humans. And we like good food. And we like living simply. And we like the countryside.That being said, living off-grid we find that many of our interests overlap with those of survivalists, preppers and the like, respectfully. But one area where our interests do not overlap is in the area of self-sufficiency. To us, this is not an interest. To us, there is no such thing. We have found that there is community-sufficiency and then there is insufficiency.What I mean by that is, having lived rather primitively for the better part of six years now, we have come to see the value in having a good relationship with our neighbors. I am not ashamed to say, we are dependent upon this relationship. We depend on them for feed corn, for hay, for large tractor use, for general savoir-faire, and for friendship.Would we perish without them? No––I guess we could get along on our own if we had to. But we hope and work to never have to, and we definitely never want to. And we hope they would never want to get along without us, either. We want to build a relationship with our community strong enough to survive any disaster, any end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it scenario, not because we feel it's necessary, but because that is the type of relationship you should always have with your community.All of these off-grid magazines seem more focused on the individual––on guns and survival techniques––than on community. And I get that to some extent. I get the increasing fear (and the increasing population of these magazines). Climate change is having its way with the world. Tensions and temperatures are high. Especially for those who live in a city or near the ocean––people are starting to worry. And without our neighbors, I might be inclined to worry, too.For us, though, we are always practicing survivalism whether we claim it or not. We need our neighbors as much now as we would should the world ever crumble––because sometimes it does crumble a little and they swoop in––that is survivalism to us. Maybe we are survivalists in that sense. Maybe we should all practice a little less self-reliance, and rely a little more on the people around us to survive now, while things are good, so that if things ever turned bad we'd hardly notice. We'd just turn to our neighbors and say, "You need any help with anything, you let us know."And I have no doubt they'd say, "You do the same now, you hear."- Jesse. 

FAVORS AND NEIGHBORS.

I was standing in the garden cultivating as best I could despite the heat. It was only May, but no one told the weather. The air was blistering hot, lingering somewhere between ninety degrees and fire. I could hear a golf cart coming up the drive, and when it came into view, I realized it was one of my favorite humans, our neighbor Sam. So I stepped into the shade to chat.Sam's an old-timer and has done his fair share of hard work over the years. But his son and grandson were putting up square bales of hay and wanted to see if I could come help.We had a lot to do in the gardens, but if I've learned anything living out here, it's that if someone comes asking for help, they need it. So I put down my hoe, hopped on the golf cart and spent an hour or so heaving large square bales into a barn sweating like crazy in the heavy spring heat. And when it was over, they thanked me and I just went back to what I was doing.Then the other day Hannah and I had a bulldozer come out and clear some land for next year's garden (more on this later). There were at least infinity trees in the area, which left infinity roots and I really felt like it needed a discing afterward to break them up, and break up the bulldozing compaction. But we don't own a disc. Neither do Eric and Cher with whom we often work. I knew Sam and his family, however, did.So I called Sam and sheepishly told him I needed some help, but we were willing and wanting to pay for it. Despite the fact that it's June, that no one has a spare second, they were over shortly thereafter with a giant tractor and a disc. Then Sam's grandkid did the discing while he and I talked about farming. When it was over I asked them how much I owed them, and they laughed. They wouldn't let me pay them for the work. Out here, you pay in favors. And when someone asks for help, they need it, and you do it not because it helps you, but because this is a community and it helps everyone.We truly cherish this place. And the community here is rapidly becoming our most prized possession. We don't know what we would do without it.- Jesse.

A SURPRISE BABY.

This past Monday began like most: up with the sun to feed the chickens, get the stove up and running to start making tea and breakfast, wash out our milk jugs because Mondays are milk days. We were expecting our neighbor Davis around 7:30 to deliver some hay for the garden, but when he called, he told us he would be bringing over something else instead.A few-hours-old piglet.We were planning on raising pigs this year, and possibly buying some from Davis, too. But he had been surprised on Sunday night by an unexpected litter, and by one little piglet outside all alone. He brought him home tucked inside his coat and then was up all night trying to warm up the little one/bottle feed him every two hours.And so our pig raising adventure has begun a few months early. And now that picture of new parents is us: waking up every two hours to warm up a bottle on the stove. It is a little bit insane. And a little bit wonderful. This life is a constant surprise, ever a change of plans. And as tired as we have been these past couple of days, every time we see this face it just seems worth it.

THEN: Tuesday morning, we got another call. And a baby brother.Boris (with the black spots), and Gomer. We are so proud.- Hannah.

FAMILY BEANS.

The other day we went over to our neighbor's house on an exciting invitation: they wanted to give us some of their "Holder Bean Seed"––"Holder" being their last name.These are beans they've been saving for "fifty years or more", but have been in the family (and in this area) for much longer than that. In fact, no one's sure how old the seed actually is––"I got them from my mother-in-law" she assured us. We traded her some Cherokee Turkey Eye butter beans from the 1700’s and she threw in some "Whippoorwill Peas" of equally unknown origin, thus completing one of my favorite transactions of all time: the seed swap.Saving seed is an important tradition in which Hannah and I love to take part. We hope to get to a point when a lot of what we grow and give is an heirloom, like the Holder Bean––a local seed with a local story. We like when our food is not only healthy, but full of tradition.The next morning, we were headed to market and Eric said something rather poignant. Even though he's an outsider––meaning that he moved to Bugtussle from elsewhere––he's starting to feel like there are pieces of this area's history that one day only he will possess. We all hear different stories from different neighbors and thus collect different bits and pieces about the history of this area. Sometimes it's a story about the old barn or pond on your property, or sometimes it's a bean. Either way, we're always honored when we newcomers to the area are given a piece of Bugtussle history to keep alive, especially when it's edible.- Jesse.