Sustainable living – Page 27

Smart? Or Smug?

Just over a month ago I did a terrible, consumerist thing. I leased a 2013 Smart car ForTwo. I can’t say that I feel remorse — I believe it was a good decision. But I do admit to a certain amount of guilt, especially at taking on a lease after having lived debt-free for so many years.

Here is how I justified the cost of leasing a Smart car:

1. Smart cars aren’t selling very well, so Smart is offering good terms on a lease: $1,299 due at signing and $99 a month. The actual numbers will be a little higher because of certain local costs, but I found my local Mercedes dealership to be very honest and very easy to deal with. (Smart cars are made by Mercedes and are sold at Mercedes dealerships.)

2. Even though I drive only about 6,000 miles a year, the savings on gas between my Jeep Wrangler and the Smart car is about $50 a month — almost half the monthly cost of the lease.

3. The Smart car has an air conditioner, and my Jeep doesn’t. The Smart car also is much quieter and more comfortable to ride in.

4. I intend to make my Jeep last for the rest of my life. I bought it new in 2001 and paid cash for it. It has 69,000 miles on it and has never given me a bit of trouble. It’s well-maintained and has had nothing but the finest synthetic oils in its engine and drive train. I’ll have no trouble making it last for the rest of my life as long as I keep the miles off of it. I haven’t started the Jeep in a month — something I really need to do soon, to keep it charged up and such.

5. The Smart car has safety systems that my 2001 Jeep does not have, including anti-lock brakes, a stability control system, and lots of air bags. I would not want to be in a head-on collision in any vehicle, but I believe the Smart car is as safe as any small car.

6. Maintenance avoidance. The Smart car is under warranty, and the Jeep will be driven only when I need it as a beast of burden, or in bad weather. So my costs for car maintenance for the next three years should be very, very low.

Before I review the Smart car

Before I leased the Smart car, I read lots of reviews. I also read a lot of what Smart car owners have written in on-line forums. The owners are mostly sensible, and their experience so far is in accord with mine. However, the reviews of the Smart car have been mostly — and often grossly — unfair. So first we need to explore why that is the case.

Why the Smart car reviews are unfair

Americans are completely insane when it comes to cars, petroleum, and highways. I mean this not as a rhetorical flourish, I literally mean it. Americans are insane. Anyone should be able to perceive this insanity merely by driving for five minutes on a Los Angeles freeway. But Americans have so normalized the insanity of their attitudes toward cars, highways, and driving, and the insanity is so universal, they they are unable to perceive it. It just seems normal. People who review cars are just as insane as everyone else, probably more so in many cases.

Americans also considers cheap gasoline to be an entitlement. If the price of gasoline rises as much as 50 cents a gallon, there is a risk of political crisis. The insane, unconscious assumption is that Washington’s main job is to keep the cheap gasoline flowing. Americans show some interest in fuel-efficient cars if the price of gasoline is high, but they forget it completely when the price of gasoline goes back to its expected range.

As for reviewer insanity, if a Smart car reviewer complains that the Smart car lacks the power to avoid slowing down on a steep hill, what does that reveal? It reveals that, to Americans, it’s an entitlement to ride in vehicles that can whisk whale-size drivers and their whale-size passengers (if any) up steep hills at 70 mph without slowing down. The power required to do that, and the huge amount of energy it takes, is seen as normal. It is not normal. It’s insane.

If a Smart car reviewer complains that the transmission in the Smart car is sometimes “rough” when it shifts, what does that mean? It means that, to an American, it’s an entitlement to take steep hills at 70 mph and feel absolutely nothing when the transmission downshifts, so that the sugar water in their super-size cup doesn’t show the slightest sign of sloshing onto their XXL T-shirt. That is not normal. It’s insane.

In short, Americans, and American car reviewers, don’t understand the Smart car and what it’s engineered for. They just don’t get it, and that’s why Smart car sales in the U.S. have been poor after the initial excitement when American importing began. It takes a European — or a sane American, of which there are far too few — to understand a Smart car.

You also can find car forums in which lovers of gas-guzzlers express absolute contempt for the Smart car, just as they express absolute contempt for hybrids such as the Prius. They think such vehicles are ridiculous, and they think that only smugness can explain why anyone would buy such a car. They see a Smart car or a hybrid as an expression of self-righteousness on the part of the owner. That is typical of Americans, to think that one’s car is a form of self-expression. But it isn’t a form of self-expression at all. It’s just a large purchase, and it ought to be based primarily on one’s needs and how the vehicle will be used. Few Americans are willing to sacrifice anything for the sake of the environment. I am. But getting good gas mileage is not a sacrifice, it’s a savings. The issue of smugness is just another facet of Americans’ insanity. How dare anyone not participate in their excess? How dare anyone draw their attention to the environmental consequences of their massive consumption by appearing on the roadway in something small? They say my Smart car makes me smug? Well I say their Lincoln Navigator makes them insane.

The average American uses more than twice as much total energy as the average person in Great Britain, more than five times as much as the average Mexican, and more than 25 times as much as the average person in India. That is insane. Anyone who cannot grasp the insanity of that will not understand the Smart car.

Some reviewers have had criticism of the Smart car that I do think is valid, though. I will get into that in my review.

And now, my review of the Smart car

Every time I get out of the Smart car and look at it, I’m shocked how small it looks. Because when you’re inside it and driving it, you don’t feel like you’re in a small car. If you’re accustomed to driving a Lincoln Navigator, you may feel differently. But the Smart car rides high with a good view of the road, and both passengers have plenty of space. To me it feels about the same as riding in my Jeep Wrangler. My lifestyle, luckily, does not normally include freeways, but I’ve had it up to 70 mph a couple of times on six-lane highways. It feels perfectly stable at those speeds. It is not buffeted by nearby trucks. I have no particular sensation of being in such a small car. On two-lane roads, I find that, rather than driving in the center of the lane, I tend to keep more to the right. This feels safer to me, because oncoming traffic is farther to my left, giving me more time to react if an oncoming car strays into my lane. Smallness does have certain safety advantages, so one ought to use those advantages.

Some reviewers have said the car is noisy. That is not true. I don’t even hear the engine while cruising. I can hear a quiet engine noise when accelerating or climbing a hill, but it’s not very noticeable. There is some minor carriage noise, but the level of carriage noise depends greatly on the quality of the pavement you’re on. I have a simple test for noise level. I extend my right arm so that my hand is as far from my ear as possible and swish two fingers together. If I can clearly hear the swishing sound, then the environment I’m in is not noisy. The Smart car is not a noisy car.

Some reviewers have complained about the transmission. It’s a five-speed transmission. It’s automatic, but I believe it uses a clutch similar to the clutch in cars with a manual transmission. However, the clutch is controlled by the car’s computer using servo motors. There is no clutch pedal; anyone can drive it. Having driven with this transmission for a thousand miles now, I like it a lot. You can use the transmission in two different ways. The first is just to put the car in “Drive” and not worry about it. A second mode permits manual control of the automatic clutch. You tap the lever forward to shift up; you tap it backward to shift down. I usually drive this way, because the computer can’t anticipate the driver’s intentions, and the computer can’t know anything about the road just ahead. Some reviewers claimed that the Smart car “lurched” while shifting. It will lurch only if someone doesn’t know how to drive, or under difficult conditions such as shifting down when acceleration is suddenly demanded on a steep hill. That would be a tough shift with any transmission. On normal roadways with normal acceleration, the Smart car’s transmission is very smooth and quiet. It purrs.

I’ve never had to make any kind of evasive maneuver with the Smart car, but some owners have testified in Smart car forums that the agility and smallness of the car has permitted them to evade collisions in a way that would not be possible with bigger cars. The Smart car is very polite in its handling. It takes curves like a sports car. It is relatively wide. It corners nicely and often can make left or right turns in third gear. Compared to the awful ride I get in my Jeep Wrangler, the Smart car feels more like a Jaguar. However, it does not like rough pavement.

Some reviewers seem to think that the three-cylinder engine in the Smart car has to run at a high rpm and work too hard. If that’s the case, they must be driving very aggressively and trying to accelerate at sports-car rates. At a reasonable, fuel-efficient rate of acceleration, engine rpm actually remains quite low. The transmission likes to shift at the lowest speed possible and keep engine rpm down. By any reasonable — as opposed to American — expectation, there’s more than enough engine power back there. (The engine is in the back so that the front of the car could be engineered as a collision crumple zone.)

As I mentioned earlier, almost all the interior space is available to the two passengers. The seats are staggered so that the two passengers are not shoulder-to-shoulder, giving a bit more room. There’s room for lots of groceries in the back. The right-side seat can be folded down for more grocery space if needed. The grocery space in the back is easily accessible through the rear hatch. There is a hidden lockable area in the lower rear door.

The model that is available for the $99 lease includes an air conditioner, an AM/FM radio (with USB and audio inputs), and remote-controlled electric locks. The rear hatch can be opened with the remote. There is a wiper and defroster on the rear window. The headlights are awesome, with a long-range high beam that I really appreciate on country roads.

Gas mileage

With the 2013 model, the EPA highway fuel economy rating went from 40 to 38 miles per gallon. There was much discussion about this in Smart car forums, but the explanation seems to be that this was because the EPA changed its rating methods, not because anything in the Smart car changed. Many Smart car owners report that the car gets poorer mileage when the engine is new, but that the mileage increases after the engine is broken in well. Some report mileage jumps around 7,000 or even 30,000 miles on the odometer.

I was disappointed to be getting only around 37 miles a gallon on my first three tankfuls of gas. However, when the odometer reached 1,000 miles, I got 41 miles per gallon on my fourth fill-up. I’m good at driving in a way that saves gas. My Jeep, for example, is rated for 19 miles per gallon, but I can get better than 23 out of it. So I expect my Smart car mileage to improve as the engine continues to break in. Even now, I think I could get 45 miles per gallon on a road trip involving extended cruising at 55 mph. Even my 41-mpg tankful included some city driving for shopping trips to Whole Foods.

Other drivers

I was concerned that other drivers might want to bully such a small car and beat up on me for my smugness. I have not found that to be the case. Only once have I had an angry, aggressive driver behind me, annoyed because I was driving at exactly the speed limit. I pulled over and let him pass. I’m used to that, as is anyone who drives at the speed limit.

Reasonable criticisms

I think that professional reviewers and others have had some criticisms of the Smart car that may be be valid.

The first is the question of value, whether the Smart car is priced too high for the amount of car you get. That may be. I had also considered a Kia Soul, which is probably more car for not much more money. However, I could not negotiate a lease with my local Kia dealer. They wanted to play games. I won’t do that. In any case, I do think that the Smart car is a surprisingly sophisticated and polite little car. It is a Mercedes. It is built in Germany and France, not Asia. It may seem overpriced compared with a Kia, but if you keep in mind that it’s a Mercedes and compare it instead with, say, a Mini Cooper, then the price doesn’t seem so harsh. The low-price lease is a very fair deal, in my opinion, and resolves the value question.

The second is the question of gas mileage. Shouldn’t such a small car get better mileage than the 38 mpg rating? All I can say is that a good driver can easily get more than 40 mpg. And we can hope for a time when the diesel version, which is popular in Europe, is available in the United States. The diesel Smart car, one hears, gets more than 60 miles per gallon.

The third criticism is that Mercedes recommends the use of premium gas of at least 93 octane. I believe that Mercedes recommends premium gasoline in all its cars. Owners report that the Smart car runs perfectly well on regular gas (apparently the computer adapts the engine to whatever is in the tank), but mileage is reduced on cheaper gas. The owner’s manual says that, because mileage is reduced on cheaper gas, premium gas is the most cost-efficient fuel for the Smart car.

Summary

I really like this little car. After a month, I’m still always looking for an excuse to go somewhere. The cost of driving is low; the comfort level is high compared with my Jeep; and unless I drive it too much I’m reducing the amount of carbon I pour into the atmosphere. I’ll confess to being smug about my Smart car if the heavy-footed driver of the gas-guzzler behind me will confess to being insane.

I'm not complaining

Corn on the cob in a few more days

After several brutal summers, the summer of 2012 is going pretty well at the abbey. While 60 percent of the country is in drought, the abbey lies in a narrow no-drought area of western North Carolina. There was a period in early July when the temperature went over 100 degrees for four days in a row, but after that hot spell let up, friendlier weather followed. It’s been almost a month since I had to irrigate the garden. Rainfall has been doing the job.

Some things are looking a little shabby — whether from heat, the work of insects, or other pests I’m not sure. But for the most part, everything is doing what everything ought to do in summer — growing like crazy. I’m particularly happy to see my young trees growing. Previous years have been very hard on newly planted trees. I could never carry enough water. But the rainfall has been sufficient this year to keep all the young trees growing nicely.

In short, I’m not complaining. The long-range forecast doesn’t look too bad. For those of you who are in parts of the country that are being hit hard by heat and drought, I am very sorry. I know what that’s like.

Muscadine grapes

As the trees grow, increasingly the abbey can hide behind them and look shy.

Some of the tomato leaves are looking bad. The tomatoes will be OK, though.

Four rows of late corn and beans

Green pepper, soon to go into chutney with green tomatoes

I put up seven quarts of dill pickles today. Big ugly cucumbers make big ugly pickles, but they’ll be fine. When I’m canning, I think how nice it will be for Ken to get to eat some of what he planted. He’s in Alaska at the moment.

A shabby rose

Arbor vitae trees, growing strong

Chrysanthemums

The abelias bloomed for the first time this year.

Misty after 1.2 inches of rain fell this afternoon

The first tree I planted here, an arbor vitae. It was four feet tall then; it’s about 12 feet tall now.

The Little Sisters of the Poor and Peckish

Sister Patience, Mother Superior

Here’s an update on the sisters of the convent adjoining Acorn Abbey. Though Sister Patience continues to hold office as Mother Superior, she is widely expected to announce her retirement when Sister Evangeline gets just a little bigger.

Sister Evangeline: Her motto: Modius primoris, precor laxus (Peck first, pray later

Sister Helen: Alis grave nil (Nothing is heavy to those who have wings)

Sister Fanny: De oppresso liber (Free from having been oppressed)

Sister Fiona: Fac fortia et patere (Do brave deeds and endure)

Sister Josephine: Per ardua ad astra (Through adversity to the stars)

Fried squash

Last summer, I somehow resisted the temptation to make fried squash, partly because it makes a mess in the kitchen. But tonight, after coming home peckish from a county commissioners’ meeting and needing a snack, I opened the refrigerator, saw one of those beautiful yellow squash, and decided to fry it.

Fried squash is a Southern classic. Some people fry it in batter; some people roll it in a beaten egg and then in seasoned flour. Some people add their secret mix of spices; some people use just salt and pepper.

The mess in the kitchen wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Yes, I fried it. And I’ll probably do it again.

As for the county commissioners’ meeting, there’s a whole nother issue we’re now fighting here in Stokes. Someone in the western end of the county wants a permit to start a “bioremediation” facility for toxic waste. Why would we allow that, in a beautiful county like Stokes in which tourism is an important part of the economy? People are drawn to the county’s mountains, state park, and rural beauty. Toxic waste doesn’t fit in with that plan.

If you set out to fight evil in this world, there’s plenty to keep you busy. Fried squash is as good a compensation as any.

Sauerkraut day

Of all the old-fashioned farm and kitchen chores I do, making sauerkraut is probably my least favorite.

Yesterday I pulled all the cabbages. There was a wheelbarrow load. Six hours later I had two full crocks — about 30 pounds — of sauerkraut starting to ferment, plus a few heads of cabbage to eat fresh. It’s hard, messy work. I washed each cabbage up in the garden area, with the hose. And then after bringing them down to the house, I washed each one again in the kitchen sink. The cleaning and washing alone is work enough, but shredding cabbage is even more miserable. It takes forever to shred that much cabbage, and it gets all over the kitchen. In any case, it’s a nice feeling of accomplishment when the work is done.

Early in the season, the cabbage was damaged pretty badly by cabbage worms. It took me too long to wise up and spray Bt, but that killed the worms, and the cabbages recovered far better than I ever would have expected. I saw only one cabbage worm while cleaning the cabbage. Next year I’ll know better. I’ll spray early and pre-empt the worms with Bt spray. The same is true of peaches, by the way. Peaches are highly susceptible to some kind of insect that lays eggs that hatch into larvae that tunnel into the peach. Next year, I’ll try to stay ahead of the enemies of the peach tree, probably with neem oil or a pyrethrin spray. By the time you first see them, they’ve already done a lot of damage.

Ready to shred — and shred, and shred, and shred

Normal weather at last??

My whole-house fan, as seen from the attic

I am starting to feel optimistic that the frighteningly hot, dry, droughty weather of the past few years was abnormal, in spite of climate change. I am hoping that we are returning to more normal temperatures and levels of rainfall. When I say this, I am ignoring the clear global trend of extreme weather events. I am thinking selfishly only of this little part of the world, and of my ability to grow things here and to endure being outside in the summer without being baked to a crisp.

I suspect that La Niña was the culprit. La Niña, of course, is one extreme of a normal oscillation of water temperatures across the tropical Pacific. This oscillation still is not well understood, but it has been observed for hundreds of years. This oscillation causes a redistribution of rainfall on both sides of the Pacific. If India and Indonesia are getting more rain than normal, then here in the American southeast we are getting less. And the reverse is true.

Typically this oscillation occurs every three to seven years. Often La Niñas are 10 years apart. But since 2008, the pattern has been unusual. The La Niña of 2008 was quickly followed by another that lasted from 2010 until 2011. This La Niña ended in this past few months, and it was one of the strongest ever recorded. It was the cause of a devastating drought in Australia and probably last year’s drought in Texas as well.

Those years since 2008, unfortunately for me, were the years I’ve been working so hard to build Acorn Abbey and to get a garden, orchard, and landscape going. No wonder I have been so discouraged and exasperated at times, watching young trees die and gardens baked to a crisp.

The amount of rainfall varies greatly from spot to spot of course, especially the rainfall from thunderstorms. Thunderstorms are the source of most of the rainfall in this area during the hot part of the year. One spot can be flooded, and another spot 10 miles away can be high and dry. So I realized that I needed my own accurate rainfall record, and I started collected data on Sept. 1 of last year. Since Sept. 1, 39 inches of rain have fallen on Acorn Abbey, well on the way to equaling or exceeding the official average of 44 to 45 inches for this area. That is most encouraging.

I also am finding that, with normal weather, I need far less air conditioning at the abbey. So far this season, I have not turned the air conditioning on at all. The highest temperature we’ve had so far was about 92. The temperature in the house reaches 86 or so on a day like that, but after the sun goes down and the outdoor temperature drops, I turn on the attic fan and the indoor temperature comes back down to the upper 70s. I can live with that. But when the temperature gets above 95, I probably won’t be able to take it.

I’ve often mentioned in this blog how odd it seems that a fanciful house such as a Gothic revival cottage can be so practical. Here’s another way it’s practical: It’s livable when it’s hot outside. Actually, that was one reason I liked the design. There are lots of big windows, as with older houses. The high ceilings and large attic help. If I had large, grand shade trees — as I hope to have in 10 or 15 years — this house would be as livable in hot weather as any Southern country house of the 19th century.

A lot of the readers here are building houses, including Gothic revival cottages like mine. So I can add a few points to lessons learned after living in this house for almost three years. Large, south-facing windows are pure gold. They will warm you in the winter, and yet in the summer when the sun is overhead, they admit no direct sun at all. West-facing windows, however, are a different story. Heavy sunlight pours in on summer afternoons. You’ll want deciduous shade trees outside your west-facing windows. Lacking that, awnings would be good, though window shades are better than no protection at all.

I cringe when I look at some modern houses. The windows are tiny. Some people probably never even open them and instead rely on their heating and cooling system year-round. That would make me crazy. I like hearing the birds. And if a chicken squawks to alert me to some emergency, I can hear her.

The Winston-Salem Journal steps up

$fracking-foes$

One of the frustrations we’ve dealt with in fighting fracking in Stokes County — and in North Carolina — has been getting the attention of the Winston-Salem Journal. The potential fracking areas in Stokes and Rockingham counties are right in the Journal’s circulation area. We’d been trying for weeks to get the Journal to tell its readers that there are potential fracking areas right in their back yards. But other than a lukewarm editorial that did not even mention Stokes County, the Journal has ignored us — until today. They wrote quite a decent story today, and the were sensible enough to put it on A-1.

This venture into community organizing has been very interesting. Fracking — once people understand some basic facts — is a nonpartisan issue. Everyone is against it. People are grateful that you’ve let them know what’s going on, because the popular media have done such a terrible job.

The local politicians are really starting to feel the heat.

Corn and beans

I’ve mentioned before that, this year, for the first time, I’m growing green beans from seeds that have been in my mother’s family for four or five generations. They came from my mother’s family farm in the Yadkin Valley, and I ate them — both fresh and canned — when I was a child. I thought they’d been lost, but my sister learned that a cousin has been growing the beans and saving seeds all these years. This cousin sent me some seeds so that I can help continue the line.

The seeds came up very strong and are looking good. It’s hard to see the bean leaves in this photo because the leaves are facing upward. Each bean is planted beside corn.

First time canning: Pickled beets

I shouldn’t act as though it’s some kind of feat to can food, because of course people have been doing it for years. But today was the first time I’ve ever tried it. It also was the first time I’ve ever had a good enough garden to support canning.

These were red beets, mixed with chioggia beets, which are striped. That’s why the color varies. And for whatever reason, the beets lost color in the pressure cooker. Something the vinegar does, maybe? I pulled all two rows of beets from the garden. The voles had ruined a third of them. Ken is already tilling the now-empty rows that the beets were in to plant more beans and corn. Later on in the season, I plan to can as many green beans and tomatoes as I possibly can. I’ll freeze the corn.

Strangely enough, the canning itself is not the most tedious and time-consuming part of the process. It’s the preparation — pulling the beets, hosing them down to remove the dirt, washing them again in the kitchen sink, boiling them for a while so that the skins will slide off, and then, finally, skinning them and slicing them. From the time I started pulling beets this morning until I took the cans from the pressure cooker was about six hours.

To keep the heat and steam of the pressure cooker out of the kitchen, I put it out on the deck, using a propane-fired cooker. The temperature hit 90 degrees today, and the air conditioning still hasn’t been used so far the season. So keeping the heat out of the kitchen really helps.

Now I just hope they all seal properly…

Where to start?

The garden, this morning

It’s been over a month since I posted. The abbey has been caught in a whirlwind of spring projects, spring farm work, and community organizing. I really appreciate the emails from those of you who have written to make sure everything is OK. Retirement is not supposed to be like this.

I think I’ll try to catch up with a bulleted list of items, stealing a bit from the way the late Herb Caen used to do things in the San Francisco Chronicle.

By far the biggest time sink in the past month has been getting involved with the group of people in Stokes County who are organizing to resist fracking in Stokes County and in North Carolina. Fracking is now illegal in North Carolina, but right-wing members of the North Carolina legislature are working hard to fast-track legislation to permit fracking. I was aware of what the legislature was up to. But I did not know until Ken and I went to a county commissioners’ meeting (to speak against a county resolution supporting North Carolina’s marriage amendment) that there is a potential fracking area here in Stokes County. There were people who came to the meeting to speak against fracking, and Ken and I immediately got involved with that group. Ken started a Facebook group (No Fracking in Stokes County), and I started a web site for the group (nofrackinginstokes.org). We helped set up a community meeting at the Walnut Cove Public Library, which almost 100 people attended. This isn’t over, because the legislature just reconvened in Raleigh, with right-wingers in the majority and ready to continue with all sorts of corporation-coddling, the-people-be-damned evils. The abbey — normally quiet and peaceful — has been noisy and busy, which leads me to the next bullet item.

The abbey does not have a land line telephone. Rather, we have two Verizon cellular phones with oversize antennas and 750 shared minutes a month. Normally we come nowhere close to using all those minutes, but this month we’re having to check to see how our minutes are holding up and budgeting the minutes out according to our needs. Yesterday Ken and I were on the phone at the same time. I was in a conference call with a consortium of North Carolina anti-fracking organizers, and Ken was doing interviewing for an article he’s writing. He also has calls to his literary agent in New York, his publisher, and his publicist. How did this happen? It’s temporary, but I told Ken yesterday that I feel like we’ve both been yanked out of the abbey and cast kicking and screaming back into the corporate world.

I finished with my book project. I did the editing, typography, and prepress work for People Skills Handbook: Action Tips for Improving Your Emotional Intelligence. The book is now being printed and should soon be for sale. It’s a corporate training manual, and it brought in some extra money that has been very nice for getting some projects done (which I’ll mention in later bullet items).

Ken sent the manuscript for his book to his publisher. He had edited it through eight drafts, and of course the book got better with each draft. He has worked like a dog. The book will be published in May 2013. Now that Ken is no longer tied down with writing and editing work, he’ll be leaving soon to work on his next projects (later bullet items).

The irrigation project ended up taking way more time than we expected. It also cost a great deal more than expected. Ken spent many days wearing waders, building a dam in the small stream below the house. At last the dam is holding and is impounding a generous amount of water. The first pump I bought was underpowered; the second pump is working great. Now we just open a couple of valves, and branch water flows into a drip system down each row of the garden. This has made a tremendous difference in the garden’s yield. The garden is picture perfect. We have eaten so much lettuce that it’s a wonder we haven’t turned green. The broccoli is starting to come in. There will be cabbages — and possibly spring sauerkraut. There are two rows of very fine beets coming along, and two rows of sweet Georgia onions. Ken planted the first round of corn and my family-heirloom green beans on Sunday. The tomatoes and such are still in the greenhouse but should be ready to transplant soon (Michael Hylton of Beautiful Earth Garden Shop at Lawsonville is starting our plants for us this year).

The trees in the orchard are three and four years old, but they’re going to bear fruit this year. The orchard has never looked so good. We have observed that, if the orchard grass looks good, the trees look good. My theory is that all those organic soil amendments that we’ve spread on the grass is getting down to the tree roots. And credit for that, no doubt, has something to do with our rising population of earthworms.

Using the nice money from putting that book together, we’ve gotten two other important projects done in addition to the irrigation system. We poured the basement floor, and we had the attic floored. Both were jobs that I didn’t have the budget to do when the house was first built. There’s a good-size basement down there, but the floor was dirt, with all the dampness, cellar crickets, and ickiness that that implies. Now the basement is dry and snug with a concrete floor as smooth as marble. There’s shelving for tools and canned goods. Upstairs, the attic floor has opened up a tremendous amount of new storage space. It’s amazing that a house so small contains so much space. It’s on five levels — basement, first floor, second floor and two levels of attic. There actually have to be steps in the attic to get from the lower level to the upper level. The roof is so steep that there is standing room even on the upper level. Both these projects created a lot of fuss and disorder, and each ruined a week of peace and quiet at the abbey.

I’m going to learn to can this summer. I got an All American pressure canner. My first effort probably will be pickled beets. And later this summer I want to can as many tomatoes and green beans as possible. I’m really counting on that irrigation system to not only maximize our yields but also to make yields more predictable.

Now I have to buck up and prepare for Ken’s departure. I often marvel at how absurdly optimistic I was with my dreams for this place. I bit off more than I could chew. One person working alone can’t start a tiny farm, no matter how tiny. One person can maintain, barely, but there is no way that one person could manage all the start-up projects. Without help, I would have gone under. But not only did help magically appear, the magic was powerful enough to bring Ken Ilgunas. Ken Ilgunas! I sometimes find myself writing little Visa commercials on my morning walks. They go something like this: “Garden and orchard, with fence and hawk net: $2,208. Chicken house and chicken infrastructure: $1,422. Irrigation system: $1,088. Stone and sand for stone walkways: $792. Five hundred dinners with Ken Ilgunas: Priceless.” Ken is brilliant. Ken is modest. He is polite. He is quiet. He is tireless. His self-awareness, and the Socrates-level refinement of his character, often make me feel like a crank and a curmudgeon. Ken is a born writer.

But in the important ways, I don’t think I have ever misunderstood Ken or the deal we have: Acorn Abbey is about leveraging his freedom, not about tying him down. It’s a place to write, a place to winter over, even a place to be needed — but not needed so much that leaving feels like shirking a responsibility. Ken is an adventurer. I have always understood that. I believe his next project will take several months and stretch into the fall. I’m sure he’ll talk about that on his blog when the time comes. But I do hope he’ll be back and that Acorn Abbey will be his home base as he starts the publicity tours for his book after Thanksgiving.

Chioggia beets, red beets, lettuce