Tara’s Not Dabbling

I’ve asked a few different bloggers the question “How do you Not Dabble in Normal?”  Over the course of the next few weeks I’m going to share their answers with you in the hopes that we’ll all learn something new and perhaps get a different perspective on normal and the folks who choose a slightly different path. This week’s answer & post comes from Tara (her bio follows her article).

I remember the moment when we decided I’d quit working. Just over a year ago and I was standing in our kitchen, leaning into my husband’s arms and crying over how torn I felt. I told him that every day I had to work took three days away from where I wanted to be – a day to mentally prepare, a day to work, a day to recover. I wanted to be home, I told him. I wanted that sweet, silly vision of Mrs. Suzy Homemaker complete with a beaming smile and a vintage floral print apron. I said if we could find a way to make one income work, I would have more time to spend with our unschooling son, more energy to be present for the two of them. I would even take over the cooking! (Could you see my desperation?)

Little did I know, I’d eat those words. And they wouldn’t be tasty. Fast forward sixteen months, I still have no apron and I’m usually crying in my husband’s arms, this time over the meal(s) I ruined. It certainly hasn’t been the journey I thought it would be. I mean it had “simple” right there in the title – “Simple Living” – should it really be this frustrating?

I think I can mostly credit the Dervaes in Pasadena for most of my inspiration. I mean, I had been walking a pretty green path for several years but seeing all they were growing and doing in their urban setting really pushed me over the sustainable edge. I wanted what they had. A productive green yard, homecooked meals, a hand-cranked blender for heaven’s sake!

I have a propensity for determination. Give me something I find inspirational and watch me dive head long into it. I looked out at my mostly barren or grassy patches of yard and naively thought “I can do this.” I showed my husband the Dervaes video and waited for his lightbulb to go off, too. He smiled and said it looks like I’d have a lot of fun. At least, I can say he was supportive and has grown increasingly more so since the onset. But perhaps that’s because I’ve required his slave labor and he’s never been one to complain.

We started with two areas – removing the grass in the front yard and adding a few portable raised beds to “practice” with until we brought out the big guns. The final goal was an 1,800 square foot suburban garden covering our front and back yard. The raised beds were pretty simple; a few store-bought plants and some emitters to water consistently. Easy-peasy. I felt good. Going from 16 square feet of beds to 1,800 sq ft should be a cinch. The degrassing? Well, that’s another story.

It started with a friend trying to remove the sod for her backyard. Those giant tree roots she uncovered should probably be an indicator of some sort to our efforts for growing much out there, but what the heck. No stopping now right? So we got on with sheet mulching – layers of cardboard and newspaper, a thin layer of manure, and six inches of grass clippings, and food scraps.

That was our first mistake. All that “green”. Not enough “brown”. Whole lotta flies. And by whole lotta, I mean thousands. Swarming, dive-bombing, copulating at ridiculous rates and swarming our entire yard – and yes, inside our home. We spent a few nights eating our dinner picnic-style in our upstairs bedroom since it seems they are afraid of heights. I’ll spare you the details – the number of fly-swatters and tape and traps we went through, the solarizing of our sheet mulching in hopes of killing larvae, the prayers, the frustration, the neighbors. Oh, our poor neighbors.

Of course, they probably got the least of it compared to friends and family. They were never made to listen to my regaling of the virtues of baking soda or line drying. They weren’t lectured on the benefits of organics or driving 55 mile per hour. They weren’t confronted with the choice of paper or cloth toilet wipes. (Seriously, folks. I won’t be offended if you choose the lone roll of TP.)

We’ve made plenty of mistakes and learned plenty of lessons in the past sixteen months. Like never attempt to test the drainage in a hole in the morning when your husband won’t be able to find the hose still running until early evening. Don’t go seed shopping without a list. Or a garden layout. There is such a thing as cold weather veggies and most salad greens aren’t available when I really want them. It’s best to test your soil before you plant. And don’t expect to learn how to cook just because you’ve romanticized the idea of becoming a Green Betty Crocker.

I’m trying. Truly, I am. I bought 50 pounds of flour in hopes I would feel inspired to bake my own bread. Instead I only realized just how much 50 lbs of flour really is when it sits unused. I’ve become adept at creating meal plans and shopping locally at the Farmer’s Markets (if a state away can be considered local – or as local as we get in Las Vegas). I just haven’t become so adept in actually creating meals. I’ve learned my greatest kitchen hurdles to overcome are 1) Serious underusage of proper seasoning 2) Distraction and 3) An unfounded believe I don’t actually need to read the recipe. I think my husband began to rethink this whole stay-at-home-me thing when I ruined the boxed mac-and-cheese.

But through all the frustrations and failures and learning curves, this little adventure has changed our lives and there is no heading back now.

We’ve slowed down – there is no longer a quick fix to our problems and taking the meandering road through life has opened our eyes to the beauty and fragility of our eco-systems, as well as ourselves. It taught us to look deeper – to learn the sources of our food or the energy usage of our appliances - and question whether something fits our now higher standards.

We’ve connected – to our bodies; to the Earth and it’s cycles; to each other, giving us something to enjoy together. We’ve also connected with our community in much deeper ways and built great friendships along the way. I’ve come to know nothing builds a relationship like sharing seeds or garden plans.

We’ve learned – about all it takes to produce what we’ve taken for granted on our plate; about the kind of work that puts you to bed, exhausted but fulfilled at night; about how important it all is to us and how long we went without knowing it.

Sure we get our fair share of crazy looks and a whole lot of rolled eyes when I get started on compost or aphids. I’m sure we’ve even lost a few people when we jumped off the deep end.

But there’s no void. No regret. No dissatisfaction. Only a sense of accomplishment and fulfillment and a knowledge that although we have a long way to go, it’s worth every tiny step and every major backslide we make.

It’s a beautiful life, this “simple” thing we chose.

Tara lives in Las Vegas with her husband, Justin and their 9 year old son, Zeb. She blogs at TheOrganicSister about their adventures in unschooling, urban homesteading and organic living, and promises to some day live off-grid if she can ever figure out how.