Simple Life
Zack and I like to keep things simple, not an easy task in this day and age. We’ve tried to take a few lessons from the past, when people seemed more self-sufficient.
Zack and I like to keep things simple, not an easy task in this day and age. We’ve tried to take a few lessons from the past, when people seemed more self-sufficient.
To that end, with some modern twists, I’d like solar power and wind power (so I could generate my own electricity and sell some to the electric company). I wouldn’t mind taking a page from the past and having a smokehouse for meat, a great garden (but with a really big freezer and reliable, consistent electric power to run it). We’ve already tried making wine and jelly from our wild mustang grapes. When we’re lucky enough to have a pecan crop, we can enjoy those (but what a lot of work to crack and clean them). We pickle cucumbers and okra. I’ve frozen peaches and various types of vegetables.
I assure you, people who were self-sufficient like this in the distant past worked VERY, very hard (and without modern conveniences). There’s all this talk of “going green.” I often wonder how many of the celebrities in Hollywood who claim this conviction actually hang their own clothes out or wash their babies’ diapers! I don’t think I can work any harder than I do already or go much greener than I already am. (And a lot of this “green” stuff is hype. You can bet someone is making a buck on it).
Hybrid and electric cars are a fine idea. But how safe can they be, sharing any road with 18-wheelers? And how many of those cute little cars could pull a huge, broken pecan limb out of a tree for me? I’m fond of my old, gasoline-powered truck, my diesel tractors, electricity — as much as I want whenever I need it. And from that electricity, I enjoy very much things like lights, fridge, freezer, washer, and dryer (the latter when wet weather won’t allow the use of my clothes line). We don’t turn on the A/C as much as most folks, but I’m very grateful for those window units when the heat becomes unbearable and threatens to make me ill.
I’d hate to do without my computer and a phone of some sort. (And I do like the convenience and security of a cell phone for emergencies.) I like my microwave oven.
I’m thankful for community water that’s safer than that from our well. (The problem isn’t the well, but the old, overhead storage tank). And in the winter, I’m glad for propane heaters. I’m aware we could manage with wood. At the alarming rate huge pecan limbs fall here, (especially during drought conditions which we always seem to have these days), I believe we’ll have a lifetime supply of fuel. Either way, with old, drafty windows and less than perfect insulation, we’re going to be a little chilly in winter.
I’ve heated exclusively with wood before. It’s a romantic notion and a money saver — if you don’t factor in the chain saw, gas, oil, maintenance, “excitement” (read: “danger”), and time. The reality of a wood-burning-stove is that it’s a huge amount of work. Anyone who has lived with one will tell you how cold an old, poorly insulated farm house can be at five or six in the morning. That’s one of the typical times the dying fire must be fed. Newer stoves have probably improved. My experience has all been vintage. I’ve never experienced a stove younger than seventy years — or older! The one we previously had in the farmhouse, kept my hair and clothing (not to mention the upholstered furniture) smelling like barbecue. For months. I didn’t actually mind it, but I suspect others did.
Now Zack wants BEES, another new experience for me. (His grandfather kept them, and he too, for a time.) He has wonderful memories of working with the bees, robbing the hives, and enjoying the honey. With every new project we undertake, every new task we learn, my precious, little, free time is sapped away. Wine-making, canning, pickling, growing our own veggies — all overwhelming. And this is on top of “normal, everyday life” (whatever that is). It certainly is different than “city life.”
Due to a late freeze this year, we lost our entire crop of fruits of all kinds and several plants in the garden. There were no peaches, plums persimmons, figs pears, spinach, peas, or beans. There weren’t even grapes. I was almost relieved (guiltily), unsure how I would find the time to wash, use, and freeze all the bounty, make the wine and jelly. Just watering and tending the garden — and dealing with the vegetables from it — took an inordinate amount of time. This ratcheted into high gear when the pickling began. And what hot work!
People speak of a simpler time, a simpler life. They romanticize it. We feel we’ve simplified things quite a bit, living as we do, where we do. We say that when one crosses our cattle guard, it’s like going back in time. But for anyone who has an idyllic vision of the simplicity of the past, let me assure you, there was — and there IS — nothing easy about this kind of simple.
(Gene Ellis, Ed.D is a Bosque County resident who returned to the family farm after years of living in New Orleans, New York, and Florida. She is an artist who holds a doctoral degree from New York University and is writing a book about the minor catastrophes of life.)
