On April 4th, I started a garden. I filled one strip tray with a mix of tomato, pepper and eggplant seeds. It felt late to start these seeds. On farms I’ve worked for in New England and Oregon, we started seeds in the solanum family, especially tomatoes, by mid-March. The seeds then have plenty of time to gernimate and be re-potted into larger pots. There they become well-established seedlings before they’re planted outside, or into a high tunnel, sometime in May, after the risk of frost. I was delayed by my own hemming and hawing, uncertain if I should start a garden.

I’ve never had my own food garden. Last year, I had a small flower garden for experiementing with natural dyes. I planned to continue the dye garden, expanding it by growing a larger variery of flowers and herbs for additional purposes, like making teas and having cut flowers to play with, but I couldn’t decide if growing vegetables was necessary. In addition to working at the general store, I’ll be farming part-time, or part-3/4 time. All winter I was reassured by the knowledge that as soon as the snow melted and a few strong winds came through to dry out the soggy fields, I’d be faced with as much food as I can eat. I made no plans. The seed catalogs piled up in my living room.

Once I started to consider where my produce was coming from, I started farming. This was in 2009. I worked on different types of farms, and each year felt exhilarated, consumed, challenged, frustarated, humbled, and satisfied. The first time I harvested strawberries and knew that was what was in store for the next day, I felt giddy. There’s always something invaluable to learn, a kindred someone to meet and an endless amount of snacks to eat. Yet, by the end of last season, I had a persistant feeling that it was time to shake things up.

I was startled by a conversation I had mid-summer. While transplanting a co-worker rattled off a list of possible next to explore opportunities, I listened, made suggestions and planted one lettuce seedling in the ground after another. He asked me if farming was all I ever wanted to do. Since starting to farm, pretty much, yes. Before I started farming, I had this idea to travel and farm and write. Once I started farming, I was hooked. We got onto another topic. The day ended. I almost forgot about the conversation. Yet, it returned, another day, perhaps while weeding. It seeped into the year. I realized, I don’t know what’s to come of all this, but there’s an undeniable buzzing.

April 4th, was a cold, rainy day. It may have dusted snow early in the morning. This year, it felt like March was no different from one long, long February. The gray, the chill of the air, and the snow carried on as though early spring meant nothing. I’d had enough of winter, enough of waiting to be outside, to be dirty, to be myself. I went down to the store, bought 50lbs of potting mix and started a vegetable garden. As soon as I placed the seeds in the soil, I knew there’ll be no holding back.

Peter, an endearingly friendly and cranky neighbor, offered to plow the field across from my house. He normally plants a pumpkin patch in the space, but he’s taking a break and the space is free to use. I haven’t measured it out, but the eye-ball assessment is that there’s likely a half-acre of open ground. To start, I’m going to plant arugula, lettuce, scallions, kale, chard, collard greens, tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, tomatillos, beets, carrots, beans, pickling cucumbers, and winter squash. To start. I need a plan for the deer. I need a plan for protection against all the pests that are so pesky. I need a plan for what to do with all the food once it’s harvested. But, more then anything, I needed to start this garden.

Spring has broken through. The smells of bbq and pine mixed with warm sunshine permeate the air. Nighttime is livened with the return of the peepers. Their chanting and chattering seem to exclaim, we are here, we are new, we are excited.

All photos credited to Nora P. Carr.

When I moved into a cabin, half a mile down a dirt road, surrounded by woods and families of deer, the oft-heard statement that the demise of print media is directly tied to the ubiquitous internet became a truth realized in day-to-day life. There is no internet provider willing to travel down the currently rutted out, muddy road for a few lone homes. Tammy, the spunky mail carrier, in a bright pink sweatshirt that matches her bright pink nails, has no trouble delivering the written mail, newspapers and magazines that, in a twist of times, are the best way to get the news. Anyone looking for a pen-pal?

Instead of checking my email and streaming NPR news stories while having breakfast, I’m listening to the radio or records. Between working and making dinner there is no catching up on social media on-goings. There is finishing an article in a magazine, walking in the woods or calling someone to have a conversation. The decision to stream a video or read a book is almost unchanged, substitute in movie from the library and the book remains on the shelf most nights.

A tiny desk concert from NPR online is music just the same as a John Prine record is. Reading an article from The New Yorker that someone posted on Facebook is still an article from The New Yorker. Though the forms of intake have changed, the content is made of essentially the same substance. Music is music. But, watching a video while having other tabs open, and maybe also checking on another site is not the same as listening to music and chopping vegetables. There is a frenzying of the mind that happens online. The distractedness that I allow myself on the internet would feel unreasonably jerky in real life. It’s a lot easier to do what I’m doing and stick to it without the internet to take me all over the place.

Through work, the library, and likely soon, a data plan on my phone, I have access to the internet. I still go online almost once a day. But, I have to plan on when and for how long. During this time I may not see every posting on the sites I like. I certainly don’t have time to follow every interesting link. Yet, I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to say, since I’ve switched to regularly reading printed media, I’m taking in more information.

Without the internet, I have a greater need for physical media. I’m thinking of getting a few more magazine subscriptions. I used to read various articles online, for free, but perhaps at a cost nonetheless. If I was reading without really reading, did I read it? Long live the library, where I can check out magazines, for free, take them home, and read them, in full.

Dana, an opinonated ninety year old former hermit, told me that the internet is destroying rural America. I wouldn’t say that. There are many highlights to having internet. Even with its fickle nature, it is full of gems. It has a way of making strangers, real people, living in cities or around the edges, un-strange. But, if you’re looking for some non-internet reading, viewing, and listening, I’ve listed some of my recent choices. I included two podcasts in the list, because they’re a useful hybrid. You need the internet to acccess them, but not to use them. Best of both worlds?

Books
*Tenth of December, by George Saunders. I’ve loved George Saunders’s stories since I pretended to write creative fiction way back in the day. This book came out a few years ago. I was excited about it, but I was farming, and sometimes that means not reading. I finally read it this winter, and man oh man. His characters are real and flawed and struggling and trying for a contented life in the face of real life, but also in futuristic real life. It’s good stuff, always.

*The Round House, by Louise Erdrich. Louise Erdrich’s books, like John McPhee’s and Joan Didion’s, are coming with me to that desert island. All of them. The Round House is particularly haunting. I read it in about two days. Partially because I couldn’t put it down, partially because I was scared and wanted to get to the end so I could erase my fear. I’m not sure how scary it’d be for average non-scaredey cat folk. I’m sure it’s a great story. Although, if you haven’t read anything by her, Love Medicine is a masterpiece. I’m in the middle of The Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse, and that’s epic as well.

*This is the Story of a Happy Marriage, by Ann Patchett. This is a collection of essays, and they stuck with me. So much so that I read the book for the first time last winter, and re-read it this winter. Patchett’s telling of applying for the L.A.P.D., taking care of her aged grandmother, and how she came to be married again, after swearing not to, are all fantastic.

*Great Plains, by Ian Fraizer. It has history, personal experiences and descriptive imagery, all of which is incredibly engaging and covers the American West, more specifically, a tiny part of Native American history and contemporary experience. The book started as a series of essays in The New Yorker, and it’s a thrill to read.

Additionally, I recently read and recommend: On Immunity, by Eula Biss; The Flamethrowers, by Rachel Kushner; The Goldfinch, by Donna Tart; and Delancey, by Molly Wizenberg.

I am currently reading, and can’t fully report on, but can say that so far I like: In Search of the Perfect Loaf, by Samuel Fromartz; The Island Within, by Richard Nelson; and The Mysteries of Pittsburgh, by Michael Chabon.

Magazines
*Orion. A staple. I have a subscription, and had one even when I had internet at my house. It has an environmental slant. Reading it, I often feel helpless and horrified. Sometimes, I feel hopeful that maybe, just maybe, we can maintain this thing that we’ve mostly destroyed, but still, not all is lost. It’s the real deal.

*Harpers. This is a magazine that I’ve been taking out of the library and am close to subscribing to. The February ’15 issue, is a good place to start. There’s reporting on Cliven Bundy (the cattle rancher with a militia fighting BLM in Nevada), prison reform (or non-reform, as the case may be), and a photo-essay on wolf-dog hybrids. It’s hefty, but monthly, so unlike The New Yorker, it’s feasible to read through before the next issue comes out. And, though it’s been said a few times before, it’s worth saying, The New Yorker is a great magazine. If I read just The New Yorker, I’d have enough good reading to last me the full week, every week.

*Gourmet. Yes, it is no longer in print. After reading various criticisms on the current state of food journalism, the simplest thought I had was: I miss Gourmet. When I read it most, right before it was cancelled, the issues had a great range of writing and voices and places profiled. I would love to find a replacement, ideas?

Movies
Warning: All of the movies I’ve seen in the past month have been heartbreaking.

*12 Years A Slave. You’ve likely heard of it, but if not, it’s a historical account of how one man was kidnappened into slavery and the twelve years that follow. It’s brutal.

*The Broken Circle Breakdown. This is an incredibly intense story of a couple falling in love and falling to pieces, triggered by cancer in the couple’s six year child. The couple is in a bluegrass band, and the music follows the ebb and flow of happy times and the unhappiest of times. Heartbreak and heart-shatter, all over the place.

For more sadness, I watched, Mississippi Burning and The Last Mountain, about civil rights and coal mining, respectively.

Records
The majority of my records come from the Goodwill, making Loretta Lynn, Dolly Parton, and Johnny Cash a large part of my collection. That’s alright by me. Nothing beats finding something special, like Elvis Costello’s My Aim is True for $2. Every so often, I splurge and buy newer records.

*St. Paul & the Broken Bones. Half the City is a mighty fine hot pink record. Soulful and rocking.

*Sturgil Simpson. He sounds an awful lot like a modern Waylon Jennings, deny it he may. I like to play his records and make pizza.

*Frank Fairfield. Jon has his records, but I want to steal them. They’re mostly out of print and hard to find. Solid folk music.

*Michael Hurley. He’s a legend to some, unknown to many, but his music is worth giving a listen to. Start with Armchair Boogie.

I’m going to buy the re-release of Kenny Knight’s album Crossroads. I’ve heard bits and pieces of it online, and it’s country, rock and all sorts of goodness.

Podcasts
The dollop! Comedic relief! In the podcast, two comedians discuss an event and/or person for about a hour. There are gold-star episodes, but the quality and humor can be erratic. 10 cent beer night is my absolute favorite episode. They recount a time when Major League Baseball thought a sound plan for filling up seats would be through a promotion in which they sold beers for 10 cents each. Hilarious.

Gravy. This is put on by the Southern Foodways Alliance. They’ve profiled veteran brothers who are now farming, the contentious history of Derby pie and a Louisiana bar that is only open on Saturday mornings. The episodes are short, but informative and completely varied. If you haven’t visited the Southern Foodways Alliance site before, it’s an internet rabbit hole worth tumbling into. It may lead you to place like Grady’s BBQ, which, without the internet, would be mighty hard to find.

All photos credited to Nora P. Carr.