When Aaron and I contemplated naming our son River, we joked that we would finally be coming out of the closet and waving our hippie flag high. But really, we are more bumpkin than hippie. (To wit: we don't like the Grateful Dead or Phish, groom and bathe regularly, aren't vegetarian, and neither of us waves our arms about when we dance.) We do, however, live a fairly rustic life in the midst of all this concrete and bustle.
Our preferred date night is an evening at home watching a dvd as Aaron sharpens knives and I knit. We both prefer frugality over fashion, function over form. Although I don't see muumuus in my Maine future, who knows what direction the desire for comfort and sun protection will take me. Meanwhile, our kids are diapered in cloth (much of the time) and our older son (having teeth) eats oat groats for breakfast. Things like oat groats give me deep satisfaction on a daily basis. Anything that is economical, healthy, and better for the planet--as oat groats are on all three fronts when compared with boxed cereal--gives me a boost day after day after day. It never gets old for me. Aren't these pleasures more country than city, more bumpkin than Brooklyn?
A family of four leaves Brooklyn's Park Slope, fails to homestead successfully in an off-the-grid log cabin in Maine, and downgrades to faux-homesteading in an on-the-grid farmhouse in Maine.
Showing posts with label background. Show all posts
Showing posts with label background. Show all posts
Monday, May 3, 2010
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Brooklynites
I love Brooklyn! I've lived here for 15 years and remain a fan. I love Prospect Park, the majestic main branch of the Brooklyn Library, the Park Slope Food Coop, the people, and the food. I love being able to walk most places I need to go. I even love the subway. (Look, Ma, no car!) This burg suits me.
Aaron and I are edgy, man, very Brooklyn. He's pierced, I'm tattooed. And he would be tattooed if he wasn't worried that after just one it would only be a matter of time before he was awash in ink from the neck down. Meanwhile, I would be pierced if all my interesting piercings (lip, tongue, nose, and upper ear) didn't repeatedly get infected, leading me to give up on all but traditional earrings. We listen to NPR, have a Maclaren stroller, used to own a Volvo, and used to drink Gorilla Coffee. Um, okay, maybe not so edgy and maybe more specifically Park Slope than Brooklyn.
Whatever the case, I just wanted you to know the "Brooklyn" in Brooklyn Bumpkin is for reals: this has been my happy home for a long time.
Next post: The Bumpkin
Aaron and I are edgy, man, very Brooklyn. He's pierced, I'm tattooed. And he would be tattooed if he wasn't worried that after just one it would only be a matter of time before he was awash in ink from the neck down. Meanwhile, I would be pierced if all my interesting piercings (lip, tongue, nose, and upper ear) didn't repeatedly get infected, leading me to give up on all but traditional earrings. We listen to NPR, have a Maclaren stroller, used to own a Volvo, and used to drink Gorilla Coffee. Um, okay, maybe not so edgy and maybe more specifically Park Slope than Brooklyn.
Whatever the case, I just wanted you to know the "Brooklyn" in Brooklyn Bumpkin is for reals: this has been my happy home for a long time.
Next post: The Bumpkin
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Blueberry plants
Getting ready for 12 weeks in Maine with a 2-year-old and an 9-week-old has been going about as slowly as expected. With only two weeks left before we leave, it is getting down to the wire for preparations. (The only time I have to write this is while I nurse.) We have to clear the apartment for our subletters and pack the essentials for life in a virtually empty log cabin.
The blueberry plants on our kitchen window sill are proving very helpful. My husband and older son planted them from cuttings sent from Washington state. Unlike several batches of seedlings, the blueberry plants are flourishing. Some are even blooming. But it remains hard to imagine them in soil, let alone bush-sized. In fact, most of this future life is hard for me to imagine. I've lived in New York City since I came here to go to college in 1987. Before that I lived in Cambridge, MA. Apart from two months spent au pairing in Vermont back in 1989, I've never lived in the country. Thank god we are starting with an initial 12-week stint and coming back to Brooklyn before our final move next summer. Otherwise, I think my brain would be melting right now. And when I'm in my ADD pinball-style mode of sorting and packing, four or more projects going at once, I look at the blueberry plants and get excited all over again about our move.
The blueberry plants on our kitchen window sill are proving very helpful. My husband and older son planted them from cuttings sent from Washington state. Unlike several batches of seedlings, the blueberry plants are flourishing. Some are even blooming. But it remains hard to imagine them in soil, let alone bush-sized. In fact, most of this future life is hard for me to imagine. I've lived in New York City since I came here to go to college in 1987. Before that I lived in Cambridge, MA. Apart from two months spent au pairing in Vermont back in 1989, I've never lived in the country. Thank god we are starting with an initial 12-week stint and coming back to Brooklyn before our final move next summer. Otherwise, I think my brain would be melting right now. And when I'm in my ADD pinball-style mode of sorting and packing, four or more projects going at once, I look at the blueberry plants and get excited all over again about our move.
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