Review: ONE MAN'S WILDERNESS by Richard Proenneke and Sam Keith

In 1968, Richard Proenneke went into a remote section of Alaska, built a cabin, and lived there for the better part of 50 years.  His journal and photographs from that first year were edited by his friend Sam Keith into the book ONE MAN'S WILDERNESS: AN ALASKAN ODYSSEY, and printed in 1973.  Since then it has become the rare book that appeals to both the back-to-nature hippies and the folks who venture into nature mainly to find things to kill.

Proenneke's account is a pleasant read, though at times the exact cataloging of his various building projects can be a tad tedious.  He is at his best when exploring the inner lives of his animal neighbors or ranting against the modern world ("Funny thing about comfort - one man's comfort is another man's misery. Most people do't work hard enough physically anymore, and comfort is not easy to find. It is surprising how comfortable a hard bunk can be after you come down off a mountain.”).

However, what I found most interesting about the book was Proenneke's obsession with documenting as much of his life as possible.  Not only did he keep a journal and take photographs, but he also recorded the construction of his cabin, and much of the surrounding nature with a video camera.  His footage and journals were so complete that it was cut into a four-part documentary for PBS called ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS (you can watch some of it HERE).

Proenneke's story reinforced something I was thinking about while listening to a segment on the local NPR station about technology in our National Parks that sprung from a  similar National Geographic article.  There was some handwringing going on about people using cell phones to take and share photographs while in nature, and whether or not this distracted or added to the "authentic nature experience."  It seems these conversations always forget that humans use stories and storytelling as a way to process their world. Whether we're drawing bison on a cave wall, shooting 8mm footage of our in-progress Alaskan cabin, or posting selfies at the Grand Canyon online, we are all simply trying to make sense of our lives by telling stories about our experiences in the world.

REVIEW: Ben Hewitt's HOME GROWN

This isn't so much a traditional "How To" parenting book as it is a series of interconnected personal essays about childhood, school, and learning throughout various points of the author's life. But in these essays, Hewitt lays out the basic case against the traditional education system, and why his family homeschools.

"...the more freedom and autonomy I allow my children to follow their passions and to learn on their own terms, the more passionate and eager to learn they become. The more engaged they become. And, inasmuch as I grant myself the same freedom and autonomy, the more engaged I become. The more I learn."

Hewitt writes beautifully about his family, their farm, and all the things he has learned while enabling his children to learn. I adore this book, and my copy is filled with underlined passages and scribbled annotations.

"What if the point of an education is to imbue our children with a sense of their connectivity, not merely with other humans, but also with the trees and animals and soil and moon and sky? What if the point of life is to feel these connections, and all the emotion they give rise to? What then?"

Although I do not agree with everything Hewitt writes (and who would agree with everything someone else thinks?), the spirit of giving his children the tools and opportunity to live and learn for themselves is what I strive for in my very own children.

"We shortchange our children's sense of responsibility and confidence by 'protecting' them from the tools and activities that build these very qualities. To learn how not to bend nails, they had to bend some. To learn how not to pull up beets, they had to pull some."

Even if you don't live on a farm, or even if you prefer traditional learning systems, this is a great book for thinking about how much responsibility and freedom we afford our children.  Could not possibly recommend this book higher.

HOME GROWN by Ben Hewitt. 2014 Roost Books

Ben Hewitt also writes beautifully about farm life on his blog.

COMIC: Portion Control

COMIC: The Color Purple

COMIC: Lee's Inferno

COMIC: I Burn Easily

Farm Lesson #27: Never Underestimate A Chicken's Curiousity

Broccoli seedling doing well in one of our raised beds.

Unfortunately, the one thing we most desperately need these days is the one thing you can't grow on a farm: time.  I was already behind in the vegetable garden when our free range chickens discovered the tender young lettuce and broccoli seedlings. To preserve the plants we kept the chickens locked in their run this past week while I hustled together a 250 foot permitter fence around our kitchen garden.

Normally we only confine the chickens to the run once a week or so when we know that no one will be home all day to watch them, but it was preferable to loosing all our veggies.
It was my fault for assuming the chickens would have enough space to roam that they wouldn't venture all the way to the other side of our property where the garden is located. So all the time I could have been using to get our peas, cabbage, and rhubarb in the ground was spent on the fence. Not to mention the tidy sum of cash required for all those posts and that much chicken wire.

At least while I was throwing a fence together, Bethany was hard at work planting the 130 trees we received from the Missouri Department of Conservation.  We are in desperate need of a wind break on the hill where our house sits. I think Bethany is getting tired of picking up toppled rocking chairs on the porch.  Bethany also planted a heavy dose of native fruiting trees like choke cherry and service berry around the chicken coop to supplement their food in the summer.

Now that the garden fence is finished I hope to catch up on planting, but there's always things on and off the farm that require our attention. We'll do what we can when we can, and try not to curse time we don't have.