Readers, this is a first in a series of letters to my children. ——-
Dear Children,
Tonight we rest after a hard day of work. We recently moved into this new house – the farm (or as some of you call it, La Farm). Today we unpacked some boxes and you helped me dig a new garden bed. We plan on having a few more beds dug by the end of this season. As I write this letter I realize that you may not be able to read it at this time. It may be something you can turn to in the future. Perhaps this letter (and subsequent letters) can offer you some explanation to our chosen path.

Some of you are excited for this new adventure. Others enter our new situation with trepidation. A few weeks ago we left the comfort of a familiar life. It was a life with neighbors nearby, a grocery store down the street, and anything that we wanted within our reach. You would ride your bikes on the sidewalk and watch for cars before crossing the street. We left all that was familiar and comfortable in order to live a rural life among the hills, woods, and pastures. The nearest neighbor is down the road and the closest town has a small hardware store and even a stop sign. Rather than dashing to the mall or the movies, our evening entertainment now consists of chasing lightening bugs in our yard or watching the fish in our pond.

Dad and I have multiple degrees and many years of schooling between us. We have had professional careers and exciting experiences in the city. So why have we chosen to leave all that was familiar and comfortable? In the past few years, dad and I began to worry about the nature of this country. We began to worry about the decline of energy and the lack of local food. We understood that everything that we used or did had oil in the equation. Our experiments within the confines of the city were great – we learned how to can, we learned to garden, we made butter, and ground wheat into flour. We turned our front yard into an edible landscape and enjoyed the fruits of our labor. Yes, we could have stayed and added more veggies to our front yard, but dad and I wanted to do more. We felt the stronghold of oil wrapped around us – and it was not pleasant. So we decided that we wanted to find a way to become more self-reliant and a way to learn to live more sustainably. We did not want to be limited by local laws and wanted to be free from the influence that urban life had upon all of you.

Our current plans include a future with goats and chickens. It includes learning how to grow more of our food, gathering eggs, and spinning wool. You see, as our energy use declines, we will need to learn how to do things as they were once done. You children are a part of this plan. This may be your future. This is why I have taught you how to can food and make butter. This is why you know how to cook from scratch and start a campfire. This is why one of you is signed up for a blacksmithing for kids course at the local folk school. We need to learn how to become less dependent upon the trucks that transport goods to us. We need to learn how to work together and rely on one another. This is not only true for our small family, but also for all of our neighbors. This is why we bring home baked treats to neighbors and offer to help tend animals. I realize that this will not be rosy. We will struggle as we learn new skills. We may fail multiple times – but trying is still better than not.

All of our theories and assumptions about the future may be wrong. However, we think that it is better to be prepared than not. Thus far, we are happier as we try to live this sustainable lifestyle than fighting the rat race in the city. Now as we dig up our little piece of earth to plant our lives, I wonder what tomorrow will bring.
Love, Mom