I have eleven minutes to write this post. I will just pretend I am on a bus.
Somewhere shortly before or after Albany Elise and I stopped at a rest stop that supposedly had wireless. It did not. It did, however, contain a rather dubious “Fish’n’Chips” connected to Roy Rogers.
In the future i will refrain from eating mid-state rest stop fast food shrimps.
Last night around eight we arrived at Kat & Jeremy’s home slash small farm, situated just on the rim of the sixth thirteenth biggest town in Vermont, Middlebury.
As with our last Vermont excursion, there are lots of friendly people and very little cellphone and broad-band wireless reception. Kat showed us the special spot in her house where she can take cellular calls. There was no internet at the spot.
This morning Elise and I headed into Kat’s backyard to feed her chickens. I have recently discovered that – in defiance of my general bird-despising – I somewhat adore chickens, which makes my refraining from eating them all the more sensible.
(aside: are all people that work in libraries weird? if i worked in one would it just confirm i was weird?)
After the chickens we toured Kat’s robust garden, sampled fresh snap peas and committing as much cucumber beetle genocide as possible. Each patch of plants had its own story – trials by cold soil or pests, favorite growers and runts.
I don’t consistently commit to buying local, but after this weekend I think I will have changed my mind. I’m glimpsing not only a tiny microcosm of farm economics, but also witnessing the love and attention that goes into each egg and potato.
I don’t know that “organic” really means anything special to me, but local now means a lot more.
I also played some Michael Jackson songs on Jeremy’s banjo.
Time’s up.