BOOK REVIEW: THE DIRTY LIFE.
We read a great deal of books then spend a subsequent great deal of time talking about them, but just recently realized we often neglect to really mention them on the blog. With the fall approaching, bringing with it shorter and shorter days, the farmer is typically left to their own devices; left to find ways to somehow farm in the dark. And what better way to do so than with a good book? In the spirit of that, and of what will probably be an literature-rich winter for us, we've decided to occasionally post a book review (or really, a recommendation) when a book moves us. The title which most recently inspired this action was Kristin Kimball's "The Dirty Life," a story not all too different from our own, with a resolution not all too different from what we want for ourselves: a sustainable farm, family and life.
In the beginning of the book she introduces herself from this farm, while her husband cooks for her––something she refers to as "a farmer's expression of intimacy,"––already deep into this lifestyle. What makes the book special is that it's the story of how it happened, how this city dweller found herself becoming a farmer. It revolves around her first year on their upstate farm, occasionally meandering in and out of her past and future, finding its stride not solely in great stories, but in observations about the farm through city eyes. Needless to say, Hannah and I, having recently come from big cities ourselves with no real inclination as to what even happens on a farm before we arrived on one, often relate so well to the story it's obnoxious: this women has, in many ways, written our book.
But we admit we were compelled to recommend "The Dirty Life" because it is so close to our story, and because it's a love story anyone would enjoy. It's a book about farming, but prefers to simply converse with you, the reader, rationally, honestly, and often humorously about what she was going through not just as a neophyte farmer, but as an unsuspecting victim of the most underrated addictions: physical labor. We definitely enjoyed it as farmers, but agree we would have enjoyed it no matter our profession.
For us, one thing we really appreciated––and I'll end with this––is how poignant in many ways it was to what we've been going through this year: "All we could do was keep trying. We were making it up as we went along. I remember feeling a kind of reverse nostalgia then, a longing for the future, when the canon would be established, when we would know what to expect and be equipped to handle it." And how.
- Jesse.
MOVING FORWARD.
First of all, I know a lot of people are waiting anxiously to hear some news. But basically...I've got nothing. Although many more opportunities, offers, and suggestions have come up, we haven't yet made a decision. We have spent the past few days keeping up with the farm chores, researching, and making a big ol' list of PROS and CONS.But on another note: Jesse is currently reading The Dirty Life by Kristin Kimball (I just finished it: it is wonderful). This morning, he was reading the chapter where Kristin is starting to get the impression that no one in her new community thinks her and her husband, who have just started an organic farm in upstate New York, are going to succeed. When her doubts begin to get the best of her, she asks her husband about it: "Of course we had a chance, he'd say, and anyway, it didn't matter if this venture failed. In his view, we were already a success, because we were doing something hard and it was something that mattered to us. You don't measure things like that with words like success or failure, he said. Satisfaction comes from trying hard things and then going on to the next hard thing, regardless of the outcome. What mattered was whether or not you were moving in a direction you thought was right."As Jesse and I ate our lunch today - juicy, purple slices of heirloom tomato on warm bread with our own butter and slivers of spicy garlic - I was stunned with the simplicity of it, the perfection of its smallness. And I reflected on these last 5 months - what all we have accomplished. We have eaten so many meals like these, beautiful meals with the food we grew. We have fed others, many loved ones and friends. We have slept most nights with the tiredness and true rest that can only come from devastatingly hard work. And so, as I feel words like "failure" start to creep in...I try to focus on this: On a tomato sandwich, on the positive words and support from our friends, and on the excitement and possibility that lies ahead as we continue to move forward. And that feels pretty successful.- Hannah.
