Friday, January 9, 2015
I think I'm living on Midway Island time, which starts the inquiry of if I were to move to Midway Island, for some reason ... nuclear winter? global warming? ... then would I live on Connecticut time? So, I have no home, then, because wherever I am, I am always six-seven hours off.
So, then, perhaps Antarctica, where it is always day, and always night, but then there is a society there, there are rules there, there is time there.
Homesteading, like the parents of the little girl of the snow, moving out to Alaska and living there. Claiming the land, furrowing it, planting potatoes the first year and then seeing what we can grow year over year. Trees, pigs, cows, chickens, keeping them (and us) warm. Then, is it an animal farm? Or do we grow vegetables? Fruits? Figs! Figs! and Persimmons! Figs and Persimmons!
Where, and what, is home for you? What does it feel like to be home?