I've been reading books lately about urban farming, little backyard farms that represent abundance and ingenuity and the productive life I wish I had. I do dream of having such a backyard. I really like our chickens, but the thickest grass in my front yard grows in the flower beds and there's a significant portion of my backyard that grows nothing so well as dandelions (at least they're edible!). So I don't seem to be on my way.
Anyway, a common theme in my reading selections seems to be feeding oneself off one's own little urban farm for one month. I suppose the significance of one month is that it's long enough to suffer but not long enough to die?
The rules seem to be fairly strict--really nothing that is not from your own little domain unless perhaps you barter with another farmer from your own stock. What exactly is the point here? I mean I love a gratuitous challenge as much as the next person--maybe more than the next person--but is this a test against something real?
This leads me to a beloved story from my childhood--Little House on the Prairie, etc. I haven't reread the series for a while, but I don't think even they were completely self-sufficient. I remember an orange for Christmas that did not grow on the prairie, and maybe occasional salt, sugar or coffee? (There are afternoons when I think that a cup of tea is the mark of civilization.)
My point is that they didn't deliberately deprive themselves of things that they could actually get. On the other hand, we can get anything from anywhere now by driving just blocks, so we can't test anything without adopting restriction.
Maybe the issue is about eating locally--as locally as possible--more than it is about being self-sufficient? About testing the limits of urban self-sufficiency? That I like.
But I have no intention of going without tea and salt and probably a few other things. I won't happen. Even if I do manage to grow more than dandelions in the backyard.
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