1 Comment

Socrates had a choice: get out of town, or drink poison hemlock. (He declined to leave, saying he never learned much from the trees. Pity. Dead at 70.) I grew up a country boy, but eventually moved to cities, before wife and I bought our first 3-acre farmette in the 'burbs, which got too dense — and then sold six years later to buy an old dairy farm, on the cheap, with good bones, as therapy from my job in the city; she was ok with the 'burbs. (I read plenty of Gene Logsdon, Wendell Berry, et al.) She, a devout city girl, was supportive. We lived there for 25 years before moving to a city "south of the border, down Mejico way." I wouldn't trade away the county-life past, with small diesel and big organic garden; but city life has grown on me again — although I'm looking for a little pueblo with high elevation, as a landing spot for when the big meltdown comes, as we're presently only 30 feet above sea level. ( I don't relish living in a newly-formed Venice!) NB: Mastodons with flash-frozen tropical veggies in their gut are still being found in swamps of northern Europe. (Don't leave your down parka up north.) ~eric. MeridaGOround.com

Expand full comment