BACK TO BASICS

I grew up on a farm, where we lived off the land and raised cattle. At various times, I slopped hogs, fed chickens, gathered eggs, brought in the cows for milking and worked in the fields. I also helped my mother tend and harvest the garden and can or freeze its produce. As a teenager, I cooked the meals while the rest of the family baled hay.

Much later, I lived for five years in Alasha and spent time in the rugged Bush, where I was definitely back to basics. I lived in a log home with electricity, propane for cooking and a wood stove for heat. I had no indoor plumbing. Instead, I hauled water and had an outhouse for necessities. Believe me - at 20 below - I made quick night-relief runs. However, on my return trips, I often saw an aurora borealis.

In the Bush, warm clothes and food, shelter and a hot bath are premium commodities. With no plumbing, water was heated in a large pot on the stove, and bathing often consisted of a dishpan of hot water.

While in Alaska, my life was synchronized with the ebb and flow of the seasons.

During the sun-drenched summers, my garden abounded in cabbages, cauliflower, broccli, rhubarb and potatoes.

In the fall, I gathered wild blueberries and low-bush cranberries. Bears like berries. I kept a watchful eye.

Also, at this time of year, most Bush residents fish for salmon and hunt moose and bear. Being generous, they shared.

By winter, I had a full pantry and stockpile of wood. When the snow settled in, I sewed in my spare time and made quilts by hand. I was peaceful and content.

Alaska taught me that my needs are few. On my return to the Lower 48, I bought a farm and lived off the grid in my RV. On the farm, my main crops were brush and stray dogs. I kept hens for eggs and a rooster for his morning wake-up call. To avoid the dreaded laundromat, I often washed my clothes by hand and dried them on a clothesline.

During my first summer on the farm, I converted an old cow pen into a garden. The manure from the previous occupants worked its magic. The soil yielded an abundant growth of lettuce, onions, squash, green beans, peas and okra.

While in the Bush, I visited many delightfull simple homes built by their owners. I wanted to do the same on the farm. With hammer in hand, nail by nail and board by board, I did.

Simple ammenities are taken for granted in our society. We rush hither and yon in our quest for activities and possessions, living in the fantasy they will make us happy. However, the ancients taught that happiness could be found in the ordinary stuff of life.

In the United States, we have created an instant and disposable society that pollutes the Earth and squanders Her resources. We have invented a plastic and cellophane existence, with instant food, instant houses and instant messaging. By doing so, we deprive ourselves of the substance of life, such as preparing our food, building our homes and working with wood, metal and the soil. In this lifestyle of instant gratification, we are in disharmony with the Earth and estranged from Her healing and life-sustaining power.

A few years ago, I moved into the city. I now live in a small, greenly-remodeled, inner-city home, within walking distance of my shopping needs.

Last summer, I started an organic garden. The soil was enriched from my compost, and I added a special blend of organic fertilizer. I had a bountiful harvest of green beans, okra, beets, tomatoes, potatoes, cucumbers, lettuce, cantelope and herbs. I canned green beans and froze herbs and other produce. I munched on them all winter and am now preparing for spring planting.

There is a wealth of information on green building, organic gardening, renewable energy sources and recycling. In or out of a recession, one person at a time, we can make a difference. By choosing to fulfill our basic needs, not our wants, each of us can help heal the planet.