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Peace of Mine · 09-28-2008, 12:26 AM

For years, I lived quite content in the Appalachian mountains on the North Carolina/Georgia border, making peace with the noisy crickets who sought warmth in the winter, or lady bugs so prolific they had to be vacuumed up. I got used to my cat bringing a copperhead snake on the patio so I could praise her hunting skills. A neighbor reached into a hen’s nest and surprised a copperhead. She survived.

You learn to take sensible precautions, and pay attention to everything. One chigger attack will teach you to rub on Neem Oil, wear long sleeves and pants with rubber bands before going berry picking. Ticks require vigilance.

What is the difference in adjusting to heavy traffic and “people” noises and petty crime that plague any city?

Today, we live on a sailboat "off the grid." The wind and the sun run the laptop and the PC card, lights, tv, and the top-load refrigeration that is so power-efficient. We can live for weeks without going to the grocery store, and horde the water supply with ease.

It is liberating to use our bikes and kayaks as our transportation system, or take a trolley for 25 cents. Whatever we need, including the best of farmer’s markets, is within reach of our bikes and our boat.

An unexpected bonus is how much I feel one with the earth. I am aware of the wind speed and direction, whether it is sunny or cloudy or rainy, what phase the moon is in, and how hot or humid it is. Or when a Norther, or Hurricane, is blowing through. Fish jump, a Manatee brushes against the boat, dolphins announce themselves with their blows.

A jelly fish explosion tells me how much pollution lurks in the water. Dirt and the chemical stew from agricultural run-off ruin a pristine beach within a day of the Okeechobee release. Thoughtless humans, hordes of them, have no respect for live starfish, or rare seahorses, or sand dollars exposed by the out-going tide.

I share my world with my grandchildren. Can they learn reverence for each tiny critter by watching me pick my way through the maze of live sand dollars, careful not to step and destroy?

09-28-2008, 12:26 AM	#10
Peace of Mine Avalon Senior Member Join Date: Sep 2008 Posts: 23	Re: Preparing to Live with the Natural World For years, I lived quite content in the Appalachian mountains on the North Carolina/Georgia border, making peace with the noisy crickets who sought warmth in the winter, or lady bugs so prolific they had to be vacuumed up. I got used to my cat bringing a copperhead snake on the patio so I could praise her hunting skills. A neighbor reached into a hen’s nest and surprised a copperhead. She survived. You learn to take sensible precautions, and pay attention to everything. One chigger attack will teach you to rub on Neem Oil, wear long sleeves and pants with rubber bands before going berry picking. Ticks require vigilance. What is the difference in adjusting to heavy traffic and “people” noises and petty crime that plague any city? Today, we live on a sailboat "off the grid." The wind and the sun run the laptop and the PC card, lights, tv, and the top-load refrigeration that is so power-efficient. We can live for weeks without going to the grocery store, and horde the water supply with ease. It is liberating to use our bikes and kayaks as our transportation system, or take a trolley for 25 cents. Whatever we need, including the best of farmer’s markets, is within reach of our bikes and our boat. An unexpected bonus is how much I feel one with the earth. I am aware of the wind speed and direction, whether it is sunny or cloudy or rainy, what phase the moon is in, and how hot or humid it is. Or when a Norther, or Hurricane, is blowing through. Fish jump, a Manatee brushes against the boat, dolphins announce themselves with their blows. A jelly fish explosion tells me how much pollution lurks in the water. Dirt and the chemical stew from agricultural run-off ruin a pristine beach within a day of the Okeechobee release. Thoughtless humans, hordes of them, have no respect for live starfish, or rare seahorses, or sand dollars exposed by the out-going tide. I share my world with my grandchildren. Can they learn reverence for each tiny critter by watching me pick my way through the maze of live sand dollars, careful not to step and destroy?