This week, I'm representing on the blog as a visitor to D Acres. I've been here for just over a week, visiting D Acres resident Beth, a good friend I met my junior year at college. I arrived on the scene eight days ago at dinner time, excited to catch up with Beth and eager to see what 's involved in living on an organic farm and in a community of people mutually committed to sustainability and fostering healthy relationships with the land.
I was not at all let down by the community I found here. I've shadowed Beth from day to day, getting to do a variety of things. Though the harvest has winded down and the season's first snow flew the other day, there are still important tasks to attend to: weeding, edging, and mulching to put garden beds down for winter, feeding pigs, tending chickens and collecting eggs, slaughtering chickens, turning compost piles, harvesting greens. The daily rhythm of work has been really enjoyable.
That's not to say there hasn't been ample time to simply enjoy the community here: delicious, fresh communal dinner each evening; guitar-playing and singing; pumpkin-carving (accompanied by dramatic readings of Harry Potter); taking French lessons with Eve on Thursday evenings; storming a costume potluck in Plymouth dressed as ninjas. There have also been two special events while I was here: a workshop on fermentation, and a presentation by the phenomenal Beehive Design Collective on their posters discussing issues of exploitation, globalization, and environment. On the subject of events, I'd better go - it's open mic night with a Halloween costume theme and the performances have started.
Anywho, it's been a pleasure to be part of such a fun, artistic, musical, globally-thinking, and locally-acting community grounded in relationships with the land. I may not miss cold nights with Beth in the shanty (too much), but I will miss almost everything else. Thanks to everyone at D Acres!
Steph
Friday, October 31, 2008
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Changes and Choices
Two weeks ago, I was the slightly disgruntled resident of a wet, cold, snowy canvas tent, fixing up trails and composting privy waste somewhere in the Pemigawasset Wilderness of northern New Hampshire. Today, I am the contentedly pleased resident of the DAcres Shanty - a fixed-up toolshed that offers a new definition of "drafty" - immersed in the fall harvest, chiding at chickens. The only fixin' I'm doing is eyeing up my next pig riding session.
I first lived at DAcres this past spring, when the snow was beginning to melt and the approaching summer inspired long hours and hard work. Now it's autumn and the unknown of winter is inciting a flurry of preparation. The pace is slower, and the work different; regardless of the season, though, we are continually preparing for the next.
With temperatures brisk and daylight diminishing rapidly, no hour is to be wasted. A stone wall is soon to be completed around the silo; 212 lbs of carrots were harvested Tuesday morning alone; the basement is almost filled with winter wood; the pigs are still to be fed, the oxen walked. And, of course, potlucks and art presentations, food preservation workshops and open mics continue. This Sunday 10/26, for example, is Volunteer Day, a chance for folks to head to DAcres and dirty their hands; there's a fermentation workshop 1-3pm, and also a potluck 6-9pm with a presentation by the political arts group The Beehive Design Collective - y'all should come out for this, now. Seriously.
Winter, challenging for the cold and the snow, does, however, provide more time for play. As residents here, we're no doubt a small community of quirky yet competant characters. Life, work, and play overlap in a fairly narrow fashion. Translation: never a dull moment. From nonsensical dinner conversations to the grunts of hardwork that suffice for communication; to reading Harry Potter out loud and playing beats in the basement; to french lessons and foam-dome eco-home house warmings; we appear to have a lock-down on the entertainment sector.
All this is why I am so contentedly residing in my well-chilled Shanty. An invigorating and rewarding rhythm to life, yes it is; and a rhythm steeped in community.
But not a community so insular as to forget the issues of the larger whole with which we are connected. Which currently means: folks, we have a Presidential election on our hands! Yes, I think Obama is the best choice we have; yes, I think it's ok that our POTUS is not Joe Schmoe nor can fix the oval office plumbing. No, Obama's not the Revolution, but what's the other option? I used to be a figure skater and am not particularly impressed with Hockey Moms. My opinions aside, though, please do not be passive. Make a choice. Vote. But don't be content with that alone. Your vote is not just about one (at least 2/3 detached) chad on one November day; your vote is each choice you do and don't make, each action of your daily life.
As we learned in french class this week: courage de décider
Courage to choose.
If you're not sure where to start, try this:
Resist much. Obey little. --Walt Whitman
~Beth
I first lived at DAcres this past spring, when the snow was beginning to melt and the approaching summer inspired long hours and hard work. Now it's autumn and the unknown of winter is inciting a flurry of preparation. The pace is slower, and the work different; regardless of the season, though, we are continually preparing for the next.
With temperatures brisk and daylight diminishing rapidly, no hour is to be wasted. A stone wall is soon to be completed around the silo; 212 lbs of carrots were harvested Tuesday morning alone; the basement is almost filled with winter wood; the pigs are still to be fed, the oxen walked. And, of course, potlucks and art presentations, food preservation workshops and open mics continue. This Sunday 10/26, for example, is Volunteer Day, a chance for folks to head to DAcres and dirty their hands; there's a fermentation workshop 1-3pm, and also a potluck 6-9pm with a presentation by the political arts group The Beehive Design Collective - y'all should come out for this, now. Seriously.
Winter, challenging for the cold and the snow, does, however, provide more time for play. As residents here, we're no doubt a small community of quirky yet competant characters. Life, work, and play overlap in a fairly narrow fashion. Translation: never a dull moment. From nonsensical dinner conversations to the grunts of hardwork that suffice for communication; to reading Harry Potter out loud and playing beats in the basement; to french lessons and foam-dome eco-home house warmings; we appear to have a lock-down on the entertainment sector.
All this is why I am so contentedly residing in my well-chilled Shanty. An invigorating and rewarding rhythm to life, yes it is; and a rhythm steeped in community.
But not a community so insular as to forget the issues of the larger whole with which we are connected. Which currently means: folks, we have a Presidential election on our hands! Yes, I think Obama is the best choice we have; yes, I think it's ok that our POTUS is not Joe Schmoe nor can fix the oval office plumbing. No, Obama's not the Revolution, but what's the other option? I used to be a figure skater and am not particularly impressed with Hockey Moms. My opinions aside, though, please do not be passive. Make a choice. Vote. But don't be content with that alone. Your vote is not just about one (at least 2/3 detached) chad on one November day; your vote is each choice you do and don't make, each action of your daily life.
As we learned in french class this week: courage de décider
Courage to choose.
If you're not sure where to start, try this:
Resist much. Obey little. --Walt Whitman
~Beth
Sunday, October 19, 2008
From Sunrise to Moonrise
My morning walk from the woods and my treehouse, Eastside, where I've been living for the past five weeks, has changed significantly.
I arrived at D Acres on the busy weekend of the Wellness Conference, a balmy couple of days, a little bit of rain, a little bit of sun. At the end of the conference, some of us were tired and sticky enough to take a chilly swim at the swimming hole (my great idea!). On the way back, we collected some tart apples from a tree by the side of the road--the first basketful of many this Fall.
That rocky path down the hill to my fallen down "slantyhouse," as I've occasionally called Eastside, can sometimes feel like a journey. Muddy and sloshy after a full week of rain, it becomes a precarious rock-hopping adventure as I leap to avoid sinking in too deep. Earlier this week, the trip was majestic. The colorful leaves have quickly been making their seasonal fall to the ground, making a blanket of crispy shades of yellow, orange, green, and red. The swish-swish-crunch-crunch of my boots through this layer gives me a rhythm and an awkward beat to my step, and it releases that fresh seasonal smell, dry and chill.
But the mornings have changed drastically. The sun is lower and longer to greet me, and the faint "cock-a-dooodle-doo" of the roosters is no longer a 5 o'clock alarm. When I open my eyes, and see my breath vapor into the chilly air, I realize it is no longer summertime. And again, as I pull on cold pants, and slip my feet into stiff, cold boots, to take my wobbly journey up the path, looking at the ground I see the sure sign that summer has ended--frost. Edging the fallen leaves are tiny ice crystals, coating blades of grass, making the kale and cabbage heavier and sweeter, is the frosty signifier of Winter-is-on-its-way.
So the only strategies to take for these short journeys are: more layers, a snug hat, long underwear, a sure stock of kindling and fuel, and the warmth of good company to bring hearty laughter and storytelling.
My first five weeks have been full. Arriving in the fall season ensured my work here to involve readying for the Winter. We have already begun stocking the root cellar shelves and bins with jars and root crops, while the freezers are quickly filling with extra beans, greens, and fruits. We will eat as well as we do when it is fresh. If anything, we have a zingy horseradish sauce to keep us entertained with its punch in the darker days of the Winter.
For now, I'm content with the frost, making bets on when the first snow will arrive (my guess is October 27) in anticipation of the first snowball fight, and collecting kindling everyday.
warmly,
Regina
I arrived at D Acres on the busy weekend of the Wellness Conference, a balmy couple of days, a little bit of rain, a little bit of sun. At the end of the conference, some of us were tired and sticky enough to take a chilly swim at the swimming hole (my great idea!). On the way back, we collected some tart apples from a tree by the side of the road--the first basketful of many this Fall.
That rocky path down the hill to my fallen down "slantyhouse," as I've occasionally called Eastside, can sometimes feel like a journey. Muddy and sloshy after a full week of rain, it becomes a precarious rock-hopping adventure as I leap to avoid sinking in too deep. Earlier this week, the trip was majestic. The colorful leaves have quickly been making their seasonal fall to the ground, making a blanket of crispy shades of yellow, orange, green, and red. The swish-swish-crunch-crunch of my boots through this layer gives me a rhythm and an awkward beat to my step, and it releases that fresh seasonal smell, dry and chill.
But the mornings have changed drastically. The sun is lower and longer to greet me, and the faint "cock-a-dooodle-doo" of the roosters is no longer a 5 o'clock alarm. When I open my eyes, and see my breath vapor into the chilly air, I realize it is no longer summertime. And again, as I pull on cold pants, and slip my feet into stiff, cold boots, to take my wobbly journey up the path, looking at the ground I see the sure sign that summer has ended--frost. Edging the fallen leaves are tiny ice crystals, coating blades of grass, making the kale and cabbage heavier and sweeter, is the frosty signifier of Winter-is-on-its-way.
So the only strategies to take for these short journeys are: more layers, a snug hat, long underwear, a sure stock of kindling and fuel, and the warmth of good company to bring hearty laughter and storytelling.
My first five weeks have been full. Arriving in the fall season ensured my work here to involve readying for the Winter. We have already begun stocking the root cellar shelves and bins with jars and root crops, while the freezers are quickly filling with extra beans, greens, and fruits. We will eat as well as we do when it is fresh. If anything, we have a zingy horseradish sauce to keep us entertained with its punch in the darker days of the Winter.
For now, I'm content with the frost, making bets on when the first snow will arrive (my guess is October 27) in anticipation of the first snowball fight, and collecting kindling everyday.
warmly,
Regina
Monday, October 13, 2008
Indian Summer
Yea, a great time to be in New Hampshire. We did not have much of a summer, but October is making up for the rainy part of the year. Warm days make you feel one more time at the swimmin hole is still possible. Not for me, It is just a reminder for the weather that will be back around in another six months. I am ready for the snow to be piled up high and the only thing left to do in the day is to build a fire. Untill then just be checking task off my list.
Thankyou for your time LD!
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Desde Mexico!
Hola a todos en DAcres! Pues me tarde un poco en escribir porque seguía en el shock del viaje, seguia aterrizando y muy exitada con todo lo que viví por allá.
Sigo procesando mi experiencia, los frutos que me ha dado seguirán surgiendo a lo largo de mi vida y en esta nueva aventura que me espera de regreso en México, ahora que me muevo a Pátzcuaro, Michoacán, y que iniciare nuevos procesos teatrales, y un jardín a la par, lo cual me emociona mucho. Ya los tendre al tanto de todo eso.
Me preguntaron aqui en México si este viaje habia cumplido o superado mis expectativas, yo contesté que las habia superado, aunque de hecho, no tenía expectativas. Sigo celebrando el haber decidido ir a DAcres a la mitad de mi viaje, y agradeciendo el que me hayan recibido, porque es de lo que recuerdo con mas cariño. Encontré gente maravillosa, con la que me sentí como en casa, como en familia. Aprendi muchísimo, mas allá de lo que haciamos cada día, aprendí una forma de vida distinta, posible y una nueva visión que me ayudó a definir hacia donde quiero enfocar mi trabajo y mis fuerzas. Recuperé la fe en una forma distinta de vivir y hacer teatro. Me di cuenta de cómo las cosas mas sencillas me hacen muy feliz. Escarvar la tierra con las manos y sacar una papa, o compartir una fogata, hacer música, cosechar los vegetales, alimentar a los animales, cocinar, contemplar lo maravilloso que es ese lugar de grandes árboles y hermosos jardines. Respirar ese aire puro, nadar en el río. Seguire agradecida siempre. Y extraño mucho, los extraño a todos y al lugar, realmente me encariñé mucho, de pronto me da la nostalgia, y muchas ganas de estar alli otravez, bailar a la luz de la luna.
He platicado a la gente de aqui acerca de mi experiencia allá, y siempre me vienen a la mente detalles maravillosos de lo que viví. No me es suficiente expresarlo aqui en palabras, pero lo que escribo aqui, lo hago con amor de verdad y muy sinceramente. Cambió mi vida, estoy decidida a renunciar a muchas cosas que antes me importaban y ahora se que son ilusorias, he decidido enfocarme en lo real, lo sencillo, lo que me hace feliz en escencia.
Ahora estoy en Mexico, ensayando ya para una función, pero me siento distinta, disfruto mucho más mi trabajo, cada ensayo, el sabado tendre función. Despues me voy a Patzcuaro.
Espero verlos a todos otravez, regresar y que tambien puedan venir, tienen una casa en Mexico.
ahora. Les envio un enorme abrazo.
Con mucho amor.
Susana
Pd. Si! que Viva la Revolución!
Sigo procesando mi experiencia, los frutos que me ha dado seguirán surgiendo a lo largo de mi vida y en esta nueva aventura que me espera de regreso en México, ahora que me muevo a Pátzcuaro, Michoacán, y que iniciare nuevos procesos teatrales, y un jardín a la par, lo cual me emociona mucho. Ya los tendre al tanto de todo eso.
Me preguntaron aqui en México si este viaje habia cumplido o superado mis expectativas, yo contesté que las habia superado, aunque de hecho, no tenía expectativas. Sigo celebrando el haber decidido ir a DAcres a la mitad de mi viaje, y agradeciendo el que me hayan recibido, porque es de lo que recuerdo con mas cariño. Encontré gente maravillosa, con la que me sentí como en casa, como en familia. Aprendi muchísimo, mas allá de lo que haciamos cada día, aprendí una forma de vida distinta, posible y una nueva visión que me ayudó a definir hacia donde quiero enfocar mi trabajo y mis fuerzas. Recuperé la fe en una forma distinta de vivir y hacer teatro. Me di cuenta de cómo las cosas mas sencillas me hacen muy feliz. Escarvar la tierra con las manos y sacar una papa, o compartir una fogata, hacer música, cosechar los vegetales, alimentar a los animales, cocinar, contemplar lo maravilloso que es ese lugar de grandes árboles y hermosos jardines. Respirar ese aire puro, nadar en el río. Seguire agradecida siempre. Y extraño mucho, los extraño a todos y al lugar, realmente me encariñé mucho, de pronto me da la nostalgia, y muchas ganas de estar alli otravez, bailar a la luz de la luna.
He platicado a la gente de aqui acerca de mi experiencia allá, y siempre me vienen a la mente detalles maravillosos de lo que viví. No me es suficiente expresarlo aqui en palabras, pero lo que escribo aqui, lo hago con amor de verdad y muy sinceramente. Cambió mi vida, estoy decidida a renunciar a muchas cosas que antes me importaban y ahora se que son ilusorias, he decidido enfocarme en lo real, lo sencillo, lo que me hace feliz en escencia.
Ahora estoy en Mexico, ensayando ya para una función, pero me siento distinta, disfruto mucho más mi trabajo, cada ensayo, el sabado tendre función. Despues me voy a Patzcuaro.
Espero verlos a todos otravez, regresar y que tambien puedan venir, tienen una casa en Mexico.
ahora. Les envio un enorme abrazo.
Con mucho amor.
Susana
Pd. Si! que Viva la Revolución!
Monday, September 29, 2008
Now the autumn is here...
The last couple of weeks have been a wonderful whirlwind of all sorts of exciting things. Our Cultivating Wellness Conference, held Sept. 13th and 14th, went exceptionally well... a HUGE thank you to all of our speakers, practitioners, sponsors, work-traders and attendees! What an empowering experience to bring together a group of inspiring, creative teachers and healers willing to share their knowledge and energy with the D Acres community. Our 100+ participants got to experience and learn about a host of things ranging from yoga and craniosacral therapy to healing with fruits and beehive products. Vendors were set up throughout the weekend, and we celebrated the weekend with a circle dance, bonfire, and drum circle Saturday night. Good times.
The following weekend, six of us from D Acres headed east to the Maine Organic Farming & Gardening Association's Common Ground Fair in Unity, Maine. Always an enjoyable adventure, the fair provided great networking, educational classes, and Maine-raised whole-wheat fried dough. Classic. We had a D Acres booth in the Agricultural Demonstration tent, where fairgoers could learn about all of the programs and activities we've got going on at the farm. Additionally, Bill, Tyler, Josh, and myself delivered a lecture entitled "Home and Community Scale Permaculture" during which we shared our experiences growing food and communities with the crowd of over 50 people who attended! We hope that folks left feeling energized and empowered to turn their lawns to gardens and share in the abundance of food and spirit with thier communities. Viva la revolucion!
Immediately after the fair, we passed through the autumn equinox (September 22nd). The equinox marks the begining of the fall season, but also the point of perfect balance between light and dark, day and night; as we celebrate the coming season, we prepare to enter into the dark time of the year. This is a well-earned time of solitude and introspection, a contrast to the bustling height of summer's long days and exuberant activities. As the days grow shorter, we are able to thrive when we embrace the darkness, the quiet times, the magic and mystery of the shadow side of ourselves and our world. Slow down, look inward, and compost what is no longer needed in your life. Autumn and winter are times of transformation, a death of the old ways of being and feeling, a journey toward the spring, when the landscape will be reborn, re-emerging from the depths of the winter.
Enjoy the bounty of the autumn harvest and the brilliance of the foliage decorating the landscape; breathe deep the crisp autumn air.
~Lauren
The following weekend, six of us from D Acres headed east to the Maine Organic Farming & Gardening Association's Common Ground Fair in Unity, Maine. Always an enjoyable adventure, the fair provided great networking, educational classes, and Maine-raised whole-wheat fried dough. Classic. We had a D Acres booth in the Agricultural Demonstration tent, where fairgoers could learn about all of the programs and activities we've got going on at the farm. Additionally, Bill, Tyler, Josh, and myself delivered a lecture entitled "Home and Community Scale Permaculture" during which we shared our experiences growing food and communities with the crowd of over 50 people who attended! We hope that folks left feeling energized and empowered to turn their lawns to gardens and share in the abundance of food and spirit with thier communities. Viva la revolucion!
Immediately after the fair, we passed through the autumn equinox (September 22nd). The equinox marks the begining of the fall season, but also the point of perfect balance between light and dark, day and night; as we celebrate the coming season, we prepare to enter into the dark time of the year. This is a well-earned time of solitude and introspection, a contrast to the bustling height of summer's long days and exuberant activities. As the days grow shorter, we are able to thrive when we embrace the darkness, the quiet times, the magic and mystery of the shadow side of ourselves and our world. Slow down, look inward, and compost what is no longer needed in your life. Autumn and winter are times of transformation, a death of the old ways of being and feeling, a journey toward the spring, when the landscape will be reborn, re-emerging from the depths of the winter.
Enjoy the bounty of the autumn harvest and the brilliance of the foliage decorating the landscape; breathe deep the crisp autumn air.
~Lauren
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
It's been about a year.
Wow. A year has passed since I started living here. Maybe it has something to do with my watch breaking and not finding a good enough reason to buy a new one, but I've never experienced time like I have in the past year. So much progress and maintance on the farm, so many heart-touching friendships made with: interns who have come and gone, long term residents, and staff, and people of the surrounding community. It makes my head spin thinking about it. The time has flown by, but at the same time it feels like the experiences exceede those of a previous life.
Looking into the future, we're going into winter with at least 8-9 people, and possibly up to 13. That's 13 exceptionally creative people only having to shovel snow, feed fires, take care of pigs, chickens and oxen, and do chores. Plus, we'll be living in very close quarters. Luckily, any free time or insanity, that surely will arise, will quickly be unleashed on fiber crafts, ceramics, woodworking, jewelry making, silk screening, blacksmithing, music, dancing, painting, and snow ball fights. I'm excited to say the least. Not only will the arts be a blast, but also an opportunity to build up ideas and invintory for next season and allow us to rev up for the 2009 theme - something along the lines of "Arts, Tradition, and Culture".
Take your time.
-Dirty Joe
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