Many of you have reached out. Thank you for that, truly. That I didn’t respond, I ask you please not to take personality. I’ve been deep in my own head for far too much of the past year, and just needed a cocoon of quiet.
I will admit that this latest cocoon of quiet may have taken things to a bit of an extreme.
It turns out I wrote about this same, need-to-hide-away-from-it-all feeling years and years ago, in a post called The Personality of Perennials. I had completely forgotten about this post until a reader (former reader?) sent it to me with a lovely, thoughtful note.
What this reader did, without realizing it, was give me the gift of an out. She gave me the ability to say: “Here’s how I’ve been. Follow this link. It explains everything.”
This is a gift because now, somehow, I don’t feel like I have to break the silence with something momentous. I don’t have to spin the last year into a poem of lessons learned, adventures had, hardship overcome. Because honestly, there’s no great story to tell, no gossip to share.
I just needed to think through a lot of stuff, and those thoughts were too sticky and viscous to put into tidy sentences and paragraphs. And they were too far off-topic for this blog, even once my brain began, slowly, to organize them.
Of course, I never intended to go radio-silent for a year. It just sort of happened, one “not today” at a time, until the whole thing felt very awkward.
A couple weeks ago my friend Paul Wheaton called me and said, “Just make a post and say, blah, blah, blah. Just ‘blah,’ over and over again.” And I laughed and said, “Dude, I’m not going to do that.” Paul compromised: “Okay, then, take some time, figure your shit out, but then get back to doing what you do.”
I don’t think my shit is figured out quite yet. Figuring out your shit is a process, right? Not a singular event? I sure hope so. But it probably wasn’t a coincidence that the day after Paul’s phone call, I picked up my garden fork and began the long walk of gardener shame out to my hideously weed-filled beds.
· · ·
Here’s the past year, outside of my own head.
Until about two weeks ago, I ignored my yard. I didn’t garden at all. Didn’t grow a single tomato last summer. Gave the garden the stink eye when it insisted on cheerfully producing a ton of perennial food despite my neglect. I picked about a zillion pounds of plums and turned them into wine, but that was it. The apples and pears and raspberries fell to the ground and rotted in place. I far preferred curling up on the couch to claiming dominion over my patch of earth last year.
I started homeschooling the kids. Homeschooling is parenting on steroids. If you mostly enjoy parenting, I think you’d mostly love homeschooling. If you mostly get irritated with parenting, I think you’d mostly hate homeschooling. It’s absolutely the right choice for our family.
Many of my stickier thoughts revolved around society, global geopolitics and resource allocation issues. I responded to the emotional difficulty inherent in some of these thoughts by doing what any self-respecting suburbanite does: going to Costco. In this case, for a few extra bags of beans and rice. I don’t want to be an alarmist, but I don’t think the next few years are going to see a big increase in global stability. You might want a backup bag of rice in your pantry, too.
The whole family went to Kauai. (The featured image for this post is a shot overlooking part of the National Tropical Botanical Gardens. If you ever have the opportunity to go, please do! It’s truly amazing.) It was Oliver’s first time on a plane. We have plans to travel more. I like to pretend this is because travel can be an amazing component of homeschooling (and it can!), but really it’s just me deciding life is really short, and it’s time I use those airline miles I’ve been saving up for 15 years. Maybe more on family travel later.
I learned that I am way, way happier as a person keeping my social media presence to a bare minimum. I don’t know when shares, clicks, and follows became confused with human worth, and echo chambers became confused with conversations, but that’s just not a ride I want back on. Blogging has a lot of upsides – but the business of blogging makes me die a tiny bit on the inside. Let someone else deal with phrases like, “effective brand monetization via key social media influencers.” That’s just not my thing. I don’t want it.
This spring I obsessively looked for a 40 acre parcel of raw land within 2 hours of my home to start a dream rural permaculture homestead retreat. (This was at the same I felt completely overwhelmed by the actual work required to manage my puny 1/3rd of an acre in suburbia. Irony!) Wouldn’t it be so cool if this post was all about how I bought a piece of rural property and I’m building swales on contour and selecting trees to cut down for our homebuilt cabin? Alas, no. But I am feeling a lot more positive about the 1/3rd of an acre I do have.
I continued my role as periodic guest-answerer-person over on The Survival Podcast. You can listen to my answers on selected podcasts tagged “Expert Council.” If you don’t follow TSP, it’s a great podcast – and far broader in focus than just beans, bullets and bandaids. I especially value the practical, homestead-focused advice.
I’ve dealt with some health stuff this past year. Nothing big, nothing too scary, but enough that there have been little disruptions in my life. Here’s an example. I stabbed my pinkie breaking down some duct tape and PVC construction masterpiece my son created. The scissors slipped and I sliced through a nerve. Now my pinkie finger won’t bend all the way and I have pain up my forearm when I grip things in certain ways. Just little shit, you know? I feel older. But maybe I’m a little wiser, too? Wise enough to just throw the duct-tape masterpiece in the trash in it’s entirety next time.
We totally re-tooled the chicken coop! Oh my gosh, guys, this really excites me. Our coop is functioning so well these days. Unfortunately, the story starts off really gross – with rats. Rats (endemic in our neighborhood, apparently) found a rusted-out section of hardware cloth under the coop that allowed them access, and tunneled straight up to the promised land of chicken feed and eggs. Long story short, this resulted in: (1) Rat City under the coop, (2) me completely freaking out, and (3) a coop remodel. The coop now boasts a sweet, rat-proof, concrete floor, a gorgeous red metal roof, a fresh paint job and the best PVC-feeders this side of Pinterest. Oh, and we’ve learned that wood stove pellets make fantastic coop liter.
· · ·
Those are the highlights. Life is ok. I’m happy to be here. I’m happy to be back to a place where I can think less and dig more. The past year has been weird, and I don’t think it’s just me, and I’m not just talking about US politics. There’s just been a real “disturbance in the force” kinda vibe. Have you felt it too?
As for this blog, I don’t how often I’ll be back. I kinda miss doing Five Thing Fridays, to be honest. And I’d like to show you the neat stand-up PVC pipe feeder in the coop. Hell, maybe I’ll even find that plot of land one day.
But for now, I know I can’t promise McDonalds-like consistency. The requirements of business blogging just aren’t where I am right now. That way lies madness for me and broken promises to you.
But until next time, thank you. I’ll try not to be such a stranger.
Love you guys.
Erica
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Welcome back, Erica! I missed you. I quit Facebook a couple of days ago to save my sanity, so I kinda think I know a little about how you might have been feeling. Actually, I had a bad year last year healthwise too, and ended up spending several months on the couch acting like a zombie. Hope you blog more, but no pressure.
How absolutely delightful to hear from you! Thanks for your honesty. I would love to some day see your daughter’s thoughts on both home schooling and regular schooling. As for getting our shit together, here is a simple test to see if you have accomplished that. Find a mirror. Breathe on to it. Did your breath leave a visible mark? Shit still needs work. Happy gardening, happy life.
Its great to hear from you Erica! Never apologize for putting yourself and your family first! Lots of us are here for you, even when you need to not be here for a while.
Barb
Welcome back, Erica!
Between major health issues and the zeitgeist, I also lost most of the last year. I’ve also come to some of the same conclusions about the “business of blogging” as you did.
Hugs and prayers, and I’m glad you are finding you way back to the things you love in ways that are not destructive.
So happy to see your name pop up in my blog reader. We can’t help our selfishness at wanting to hear more from an intelligent, funny, and excellent teacher such as yourself : ) So, glad you’re alive. Glad you are taking care of yourself and your needs. For a somewhat scary take on social media going too far, you might check out an episode of Black Mirror in season 3 called “Nosedive” The whole series is cool, but that one sounds like it might be interesting to you after your comments about social media. It’s kind of like Twilight Zone but modernized.
My husband has been watching this show and telling me about it (I can’t stay up late enough to watch a new TV show), and this one sounded like it hit a little close to home. And your description made me laugh – after hearing about it, I said, “it sounds like if The Twilight Zone wasn’t as worried about Communism.”
Forgot to say, the series Black Mirror is on Netflix
Hi Erika,
I’ve missed your wry sense of humor and fabulously on-spot insights with regard to life, humans, and the fine art of drawing sustenance from the earth. This was a great post to read. I bet that most of us can relate on a very deep level to what you described. My partner and I turned away from our garden the summer before last as I started up a grad school program. I had a lot of guilt each time I looked out at that unkempt patch of weeds and feral tomatoes and parsnips, but we spun our abandonment as letting the soil lie fallow, which made me feel fractionally better about it. We’ve started some kale, herbs, and tomato seeds with our boys this past week (growing season is a bit different out here in Massachusetts) with the intent on easing ourselves back into growing our own food. I hope that you continue to post, even when it’s not about gardening specifically. You’re a positive and motivating voice in the angry storm of the internet. Thank you for sharing with strangers your experiences. I appreciate it and have benefited from it directly. If nothing else, you taught me how to make tomato sauce out of all those skins we were composting. Post some pictures of that new coop, if you get the chance. We took a break from our flock at the same time we took a break from our garden, and building a new coop will be the first step back toward fresh, humane eggs.
It’s so good to hear from you! I tried emailing you a few times but didn’t want to keep doing it and come off as pestering you. Just about every week I wonder how you’re doing, especially with the homeschooling.
Ugh, I empathize on the rats. I’ll be doing some concrete floor work myself soon. Mostly for the rabbits who I love better but the chickens need it as soon as I can afford it.
We missed you! Glad you are well and taking care of yourself. ::hugs::
So glad you’re (mostly at least) ok! And yes, I’d love to see pictures of the new coop setup. I still want to do chickens here, and still haven’t due to factors…..
Loved hearing from you. Hang in there.
It’s so lovely to hear from you. I’ve been a longtime reader, but not commented much, and I missed your voice! Amusingly, oftentimes when I put on deodorant (which I make using the recipe from your book), I think, “I wonder what Erika is up to. I hope she’s well.” I’m glad there was nothing dramatic happening to keep you away; life takes its different seasons.
Thank you for this post. I too didn’t touch my garden last year. At 72 years my body quit working well enough, but after back surgery & a hip replacement I’ve started to mend. Two nights ago, after a massive rain, I was out in the yard with flashlight & shovel and fell over onto clean wet spongy grass. Nothing hurt but I realized how much had been missed. Not the food but the joy of dirty hands, organic smells, & small mysteries of growing things. I wish us both well on the next stage of our journeys.
OMG, thank you Paul for encouraging you to make contact. I had resorted to searching the obits!!! So glad to know you are ok.
Just as ok as the rest of us it sounds like, livin life. I went through a similar gardening block a couple of years ago and drastically changed my life, sold my lovely, hard work built garden and moved, twice. It was a mistake I will regret for a long time. I am gradually bonding with my new garden and building it more slowly and taking more breaks to prevent another meltdown.
You don’t owe us anything. My life is fantastically more rich from knowing you.
Thank you and write when you want.
It’s good to hear from you. I’m glad to know that you get it that you have no obligation to your readership other than living your life in a way that makes sense for you. From a practical standpoint, the archives you’ve left here are an incredible resource for all of us.
I think you you as I garden my tenth of an acre, and h’school my G’babies.
All is well,
~Anne
You’ve been missed, Erica, and it was so good to hear from you. Be well.
Thank you, Erica, for the update. I was one of many who worried about the silence and am glad to find you were here all along. You have so generously given of yourself in your blogs, and “thank you” doesn’t feel remotely sufficient for all of it. Your winding path certainly resonates and is much more interesting for its twists and turns. Send up a signal if you ever need us and keep in touch when you can. Sending a heartfelt embrace.
Business blogging sucks. It has always seemed a little bit like prostituting myself or something, and I’m sorry if I offend others here, but it’s just too… I don’t know. I blog about our homesteading life in the wilderness because I want to, not because I want to make money, because I would have to kill myself.
And yes, you are so right: this past year was weird for many, many people. I’m a life coach, and every single one of my clients had dealt with f—ed up issues. So there. You are totally not alone on that one.
Plus, it sounds like you dealt with some huge transitions! I don’t think people realize how much of an impact homeschooling is, even if you like it and works for your family. It’s still a huge commitment, and your kids are around you all the time, which is not always a good thing when you are feeling down, or PMS-sy, or just in need of some f— ing quiet!!! I know how it feels, because I homeschool my three kids, and some days I want to strangle them. Then again, some days are totally awesome, and we got to travel to Maui in January.
And then the whole global stuff: Ack. That would do anyone in.
Glad to have you back, Erica. 🙂
We started homeschooling two years ago. Last year’s garden was a few zucchini seeds I chucked in the dirt in late June. I totally get it. 🙂 Good to hear things are well. Look forward to any future posting. 🙂
I’m glad you made this post, and I’ve missed your presence, even if I’m a lurker who never comments. I have found your blog a great resource to point others to, and I hope you know that it has value on a human level, especially if it doesn’t have McDonalds-esq consistency.
Along with the crocuses and snowdrops poking their heads out of the mud and mulch, here comes Erica!
Hurray! Bloom where you’re planted, some people say.
Welcome back, you were missed. That said, you don’t owe us anything. As an aside, I’m taking 5000 IU of vitamin D daily – it helps with aches and pains and mood. (I wouldn’t take such a high dose for more than one bottle without getting a blood test to make sure you haven’t overdone it.)
Hi Erica, definitely not a former reader 🙂 So glad to hear more about the journey of the past year. It’s been intense for so many of us. Sending best wishes from Portland.
Missed you!
Hi Erica, I’ve thought of you a number of times in recent months. I’m glad to hear you’re okay. I figured that you had either scored some amazing opportunity or wigged and needed a bit of space. Even though you don’t have your own tv show, I’m glad to know you’re all right.
Life is a process. I feel like I’m finally recovering from losing our Seattle house and my own company after 3 years now. It was, and is, a heart breaking experience to separate from something that I had put so much of my heart and soul into. There’s no doubt that my family is better off now but my heart still aches.
Good for you for just blowing it all off for a year. Do what you love and don’t get sucked into the frenzy.
I’m glad you are OK. I’ve missed your blog and I’ve missed your cocktail recipes.
Yes, there is a disturbance in the force but I feel it started a good few years ago; and it will just get more disturbing until all the wrinkles are smushed flat.
Some unsolicited advice from the other coast:
1) Don’t underestimate the value of writing to organize thoughts and provide clarity of mind.
2) Worry less, or not at all, about what you think your readers want to read about, or the length of their attention span.
Combining those two may kill two birds with one stone in that you improve your own psyche while concurrently diminishing this fear of neglect to your peops.
I’m offering advice selfishly, because I love to hear your perspective. I found you through TSP and have shared your responses often.
Lastly, and here’s where it could get weird, consider adding meditation to your daily routine. The Calm app has been a total game changer for me, and continues to stabilize my perspective on life. Recognizing thoughts and emotions and letting them go so that I can spend my life in the now.
Life is short sista, whatever you do, be happy and stay awesome.
Cheers,
Matt
I’ve come periodically to check in but figured what you just wrote, that it was something like that. Ok, ok, so I did google a few times to make sure there wasn’t an obituary for you.
I miss your writing and don’t like business blogging so, if you want to feed us random tidbits that have nothing to do with SEO or click-bait posts, I think we will all eat it up.
I would like to hear about your thoughts on stockpiling rice and beans because I’m kind of worried about that too and thinking that others should be more worried than they are (hi husband! + most of the general public).
Good to know you’re alive! I never believe that bloggers need to excuse their abscences, just type if you want to and don’t if you don’t. I’ve always enjoyed what you type and am a happy to see a post from you. :-). I have a friend who blogs, who went down the monetizing, here’s a formula to make your blog great etc, route. I am sure she gets more page views, but I rarely read what she writes now, it’s so vanilla and formulaic. I will be happy to be subjected to your musings once again, as often as you choose to share them.
Welcome back Erica! Anything you decide to post will be so appreciated even if it’s just the 5 things Friday. Last year was a cluster for many, my garden struggled and my urban farm was just maintained with no growth, health issues that turned me into a hermit, loss of many family members and just life being hard. I’ve come out of it too and I’m so glad you are feeling more like yourself! Can’t wait to see the improvements to your coop! Btw the beautiful duckling Charlotte we got from you is a mama now, she has 6 little ladies following her around now. Have a great week and remember to be kind to yourself!
Glad to hear from you. I just bought a house with a much bigger yard and will be referring to your blog and book and garden planner (oh dear, I may love your writing/advice) very much over the course of this year. Thank you, and take care of yourself.
Glad to hear from you! Sounds like my year two years ago where all I did was harvest my cherries. It took two solid weeks to reclaim my garden after that year. Wish you the best and hope to hear from you again. But if not live well and be happy.
Well, we wouldn’t want you to wander into madness. The things I like best about your blog are its clarity and sanity. Nevertheless, it’s nice to see you’re still out there.
I think there’s a very big distinction between “social media” (Facebook) and blogging – at least it feels different to me. For me, blogging is kind of like having a conversation with one’s neighbors and FB is a little like standing in the mall talking with friends, and then, all of these people just join the conversation – whether invited or not – and often have very strong, sometimes unkind, opinions. I feel like FB takes a little piece of me. I enjoy my blog, and I’m committed to spending more time on the blog and less on the feed.
As for the land. Been there. I’ve spent too much of the last decade looking for that sweet piece of heaven where I can live off-grid with my family, but I’ve finally come to the full realization that: 1) I’m almost 50; 2) I don’t move as quickly or as easily as I used to; 3) sometimes a quarter of an acre is a lot of work; 4) a quarter of an acre can feed two people (my husband and me), if it’s well managed; 5) I still have time to better manage my quarter acre, but I may not have time to start learning to manage a larger farm.
I won’t say “welcome back”, because there’s no pressure for you to feel like you need to “be” back. I will say, however, that I’m interested in seeing your new coop design. I need to make some coop modifications this year, too (although not because of rats. I have a huge black cat who handles that for me :)).
I’m glad to see an update from you; I’m not exaggerating when I say I’ve thought about you/your blog extremely frequently over the last year. Never with judgement but yes with some disappointment to be missing out on your humor and far-more-organized-than-me gardening advice. I’m glad to hear that you are well, and I hope that your brain lets you out into the world of writing for others to read more often in the future. You’ve been missed!
I feel like maintaining a blog like this would drive me to ground as well! I’m so glad to hear you’re well, that something catastrophic wasn’t to blame for your absence. I’m also glad that you may be posting again from time to time, because your voice (the literary kind) has been missed, especially in light of the last year of crazy. I feel like reading your blog, whether the content is urban homesteading or just thinking out loud, makes me feel more at ease. Which I realize may come off as additional pressure, but that’s not my intent. I just mean to say how much I enjoy reading your thoughts and ideas, and I hope you continue to share them but understand if you don’t.
I have never been so happy to see a blog updated before, and am so pleased that there was no terrible crisis behind the quiet. Welcome back! I’d read whatever you write, any time. ??☘️?
So happy to hear from you again. I’ve thought so much about you and missed your words. Glad life is sorting its way out. I want to see and hear as much as you’re willing to share. Take good care.
I’ve been hoping you would write this post for some time. Good work, Paul!
Please go read Shauna Arends’ latest couple of posts at Gluten-Free Girl. They are about abandoning the business of blogging and writing from the heart.
Your readers *do not care* about perfection in blogging. *DO NOT CARE*. We would love what offerings you have without more.
Books wreck blogs. You know that now. Write for fun. Quit worrying about perfect. Perfect is stupid.
I don’t care how often you post but I can assure you, I’ll read every damn one of them! Take care of you and yours first to make the most out of your life. We’ll be here to soak up your thoughts and stories whenever you want to share them.
My first thoughts upon reading this – “thank god I’m not the only one”! I never planted a thing last year, never weeded, mulched or even ventured out there except to pick some self-seeded parsley. Ditto with plums into wine (pears also). Ditto with dreaming about a bigger homestead while my current home and yard are neglected.
I also understand the social media conundrum when it’s part of your job (market manager here). It was (still is?) unbearable to be part of, but a necessity. I wanted to unplug so badly.
During these times I reflect on what drove me to self-sufficiency in the first place – to feel empowered in a time of powerlessness. So let’s give ourselves a break (we know we needed it) and do it because it brings us joy and security, not out of obligation.
In fact, I was just staring out the window with my morning coffee and thought it might be a good day to finally organize my garden shed. Look out, next I’ll be reading seed catalogs!
Hang in there and welcome back!
I’m so happy to see you back, even if only briefly or once in a while. I didn’t comment during the year you were away, but I checked in periodically to see if you’re were around. And I worried, but hoped you were just dealing with other things.
Your blog has been a hugely important resource for me in my gardening education. I often look back at old posts for continued learning and inspiration. So even if you don’t continue regularly, I thank you for what you have done. And I hope the site remains active for access to the old posts. Take care Erica. You have much support from so many of us out here.
It’s really nice to read your words.
Erica, I have so enjoyed your posts over the years and bought your book for my mother in law, who tells me regularly how much she likes it. I too have been through a season of ignoring my garden. Last year I went through significant health issues, including 9 days in the hospital, 2 months in my pajamas at home and about 4 more months of regaining my strength. Needless to say, I watched the garden from my window, visited it occasionally, but did not actively participate. I did not get out, did not really work and if my friends wanted to see me, they had to show up with food. My garden had a mind of it’s own. My husband, in the hopes of my healing and for his own therapy, planted vegetable seeds, but really didn’t have time to nurture them. The year before, a sunflower had volunteered in the vegetable garden and in the lull of weeding last spring, all those sunflower seeds sprang to life and took over the world. The broccoli tried to grow up and the carrots attempted to find the sun, but those sunflowers out did them and shaded everything underneath. During my many many days in the house, I could look out my window and enjoy those amazingly happy sunflower faces much more than I would have enjoyed the cabbage that might have grown had things been different. I struggled with guilt, but ultimately realized that the beds will be here for me when I’m ready to get back to the garden and I actually love growing flowers as much as vegies. Bless you in your time of homeschooling. Raising up kids is so important and ultimately, you can go back to blogging or gardening or whatever is on your list, when this season of your life is done.
So, so glad you took time for yourself, and that you let us know that it was life that called you away. (I confess to being one of the people who checked obituaries.) I think you are right, that something feels “off” in the world, and not just politically. I walked away from active participation in social media sometime last autumn. Even now, FB feels more toxic to me than a Febreeze-soaked petroleum sandwich washed down with paint thinner. I just can’t watch while people I love treat other people I love like the enemy, and I truly don’t want to care about how anyone I don’t live with responds to my decisions, opinions, color choices, or what I made for dinner. I, too, am a happier person when my day doesn’t involve checking numbers of “likes.” All that to say, welcome back, in whatever limited or unlimited capacity you choose to grace us with your wit and wisdom–emphasis on choose. (My biggest lesson over the last few years is that I get choices in this life. I may not always like the consequences of my decisions, but they are mine to make, no matter how responsible I feel to please other people. This brings tremendous freedom.) Blessings and peace to you, Erica. You were missed.
Good to hear from you.
It’s your blog. Do with it what you will. (I’d really like to know more about your new coop, however!)
Live!
So glad to hear you are all well. Putting family first was always my go-to thought about your absence. Kinda sounds like you were going through the horrible stages of grief that accompanies the predicament. My husband and I went through it in the last few years. Sort of brutal in it’s own way. Trying to change my view from large to small, local and within the sphere, which is hard to do because you can just tell when the stages begin for others and being close to it seems to make me mute.
Oh Erica,
I can’t tell you how relieved I am to “hear” your voice again!
I was teaching a little workshop on seed starting mix making on Friday, and recommended folks go to your site to read your recipe and the research you’d done. I must have sounded very sad, because one of my friends came up afterward to comfort me on my “loss.”
TL;DR MISSED YOU!
Welcome back! you were missed. Even though you don’t know me since I normally don’t comment I have been reading your blog since the beginning as self affirmation and of course a good laugh.
Lovely to hear from you again. And the news that you are homeschooling – I always wondered if you would come to that! As a now redundant / retired home school mother, I had thought seemed like a fit for you. It’s not always easy, but after all these years and 4 sons (now 26 – 35), I can say it has been wonderful.