This is, apparently, The Year We Start New Things.
Apparently, Mr. P is going to start raising rabbits. Not because rabbits are cute and soft, but because he is intrigued by the concept of raising them for meat.
I am, apparently, going to start gardening. I’ve done exactly one season of gardening in the past. It was a middling success, I would say, but it would have been better had I remember to water it more. Plants don’t cry for food and water like children do.
And I am also, apparently, going to start composting.
And canning this fall. Apparently.
All of this is sort of a kind of move toward being a little more self-reliant, a little more prepared for the unexpected, a little closer to our food. And I don’t think any of those things are bad, exactly, but . . .
I’m a little freaked out.
I do get freaked out by unusual things.
It’s not like I’m completely unfamiliar with this stuff. I did grow up in a rural area and I come from a family of farmers. My mom and grandmas raised gardens every year, but we children were mostly detached from all of that. My grandma raised chickens for meat–about 50 chickens a year–and she and Mom always “put up” green beans, pears, peaches, applesauce, jams, jellies, beets, and the like. But the only thing I remember from most of that is that chickens act really weird when their heads are chopped off and canning is, apparently, more dangerous than coal mining (judging by how insistent my mother was that we never even think about approaching the kitchen when she was canning).
I think I would feel better about this whole business if I had a better track record of being successful at things. Or if I were more domestically inclined. Or if I felt like I had more breathing room in my day. Or if . . . I don’t know. I just know that I feel woefully inadequate to tackle these kinds of things.
But I suppose the worst that could happen is I plant some seeds that don’t grow and throw some biodegradable trash in a black bin.
There is a certain satisfaction in having a freezer full of meat and shelves full of preserved goodies. I do remember how lovely our utility room looked when my mom would finish canning. She’d usually stand back, sigh with satisfaction, and say something like, “It always looks so pretty when it’s done.”
So I guess the best that can happen is a freezer full of rabbit meat and shelves full of veggies.
Stay tuned for updates as the experiment proceeds . . .