Introduction

The idea of place, of home, of belonging has long been controlling my brain. Ever since I felt that first tug of indescribable feeling at the sight of an empty field, or brilliant sunset, or wet, spring creek, land—place—wilderness has absorbed my thoughts and my happiness.

When I am unhappy, a winter skyline of bare trees against faint blue can lift my spirits. When I am unsettled, the budding of trees and the slow greening of the earth around me can settle and soothe. When I seek solace, I seek wilderness, emptiness, somewhere beautiful—even if only to me.

Absorption with what is wild has haunted me for as long as I can remember. When I learned the term “eco-composition” in a creative nonfiction class I took in undergrad, my heart leapt with understanding and longing to write such a piece. Of all the writing forms I had ever experienced, the eco-composition and the journeys of most creative nonfiction have fit better than any other.

Much to my chagrin, I am a suburban dweller and perhaps may always stay this way. So, my only connections are drives and vacations to wild places or a journey with the written word. And so, this blog will hopefully be that endeavor—my passionate participation, to quote Terry Tempest Williams in her book Red.

Beyond my connection with wilderness, with rural areas and open space comes an appreciation for the land and the cultivation from that land for food. This interest is a much newer exploration—though I have always had a romantic sense of place within a farm and farmers, I have never given much thought to the ecological or environmental concepts of farming or food. Thanks to the essays of Barbara Kingsolver and Ms. Gussow’s book This Organic Life, the concepts of eating locally, growing one’s own food, and our responsibility to know where our food comes from has become a burgeoning love of mine. Along with the passionate participation with the wilderness, I will also describe the struggles of a young, suburban woman attempting to eat locally, and raise some of what she puts on the table for herself and her boyfriend. All on a very limiting budget while I attend grad school and attempt to pay for outrageously expensive health insurance.

In short, this blog is about the land, the wilderness, farms, the challenge of eating locally on a budget, the challenge of knowing where the food I consume comes from and what it cost the environment to get it to my plate, the challenge of growing edibles in an apartment in a suburban area. It’s also about the love of land, of place, of beauty, of the written word and my attempt to come to a strong grip on all of the above.

“What we lose in our great human exodus from the land is a rooted sense, as deep and intangible as religious faith, of why we need to hold on to the wild and beautiful places that once surrounded us.” -Barbara Kingsolver, Small Wonder

I suppose this teensy inconsequential blip of blog on the wide expanse of cyber space is my own impotent assault on the loss of wilderness, on the loss of connection with our roots, our homes, and down to the very food we eat. We’ll see where the journey takes me.