Surviving and Thriving in the North

This past weekend highway 63 was closed pro-actively. My first response was to breathe a sigh of relief, as I thought of all the people who would not be on the road in those treacherous conditions. I thought of all the people who would not be on the road, convinced that they are better drivers than everyone else out there who can't handle a little snow at 120+km/hour.  I figured many of them would be grumbling, upset that their travel to work or home was interrupted and that they had to find somewhere to stay for the night or turn around and head back to where they had departed from. But I was comforted that maybe there wouldn't be another fatality, that if motorists can't apply common sense to a situation, the RCMP can apply it for them.

Later the next day we went to the grocery store. The shelves while not bare were looking a little picked-over... Extra Foods in Timberlea on a Friday night usually does. My daughter and I sauntered past the ice cream freezer, which was significantly depleted. "Hmm," I mused, "maybe the ice cream truck is stuck at Grassland." Meara grinned and said, "At least it won't all melt!" Refreshing optimism. More refreshing than ice cream. I began to think more about how grocery store shelves in Fort McMurray are filled, how our underground gasoline tanks are filled, how anything we need in our day-to-day life makes its way into this community. It's not airlifted.

The same goes for every other community across North America- freight trucks are loaded up with goods from warehouses and drive all over the place, delivering food, gasoline, and sometimes even water. A few years ago I read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life, written by the prodigiously talented Barbara Kingsolver. In this non-fiction work, she points out our dependance on the trucking industry for the necessities of life, and asks, mostly from an environmental stewardship point of view, if this is really the best way. The author and her family leave their home in Arizona and settle down on a family 40 acres in Virginia, where they plan to spend the next year eating only what they can grow themselves or buy or barter for at the local farmer's market. Beyond questioning the environmental footprint of the bananas we eat in December, the author, her husband and children all contribute to the conversation which touches on self-sufficiency, factory farming and mega-agribusiness, and the satisfaction of providing for your loved ones.

What does this have to do with Fort McMurray and the closure of Highway 63? I guess it points up our isolation. In the north, there is often only one road into or out of a community. While 881 is an alternative for those heading north to our community, it is often not in any better shape than 63. When we rely upon outside sources for our provisions, we become vulnerable to the supply being cut off. In Fort McMurray, there are probably enough groceries on the shelves and gas in the ground to last a few days anyway. But how many of us have a backup plan? I have grown vegetables and fruit in Fort McMurray. Composting can be a pain, but is rewarding when your soil gets so much better and you didn't have to put chemicals on it. Pesticide free produce is as close as your backyard if you would harness the power of the vegetable garden. And while I make no assertions about the farming methods used by Dunvegan Gardens, our family purchased potatoes, tomatoes and cabbage grown on-site last fall. Certified organic or not, it was local. It was good.

While you're at it, look into the methods of preserving food that have been in use for generations, millenia in some cases. Drying, salting, canning, and freezing are all ways to preserve the bounty. I think next summer I would rather buy a huge case of in-season peaches and jar them, instead of eating drab mid-winter "fresh" fruit or grocery store cans laced with BPA. I'll thank God for the land and the seeds and the sunshine and water. I'll put on my apron and imagine my nana, my grandma, my mother-in-law as they worked to ensure there would be fruit and vegetables available, even when the garden is covered in three feet of snow. I'll visit Dunvegan Gardens and support their local business, and eat their local food. Maybe I'll actually go to that gardening class instead of only thinking about it. And in my own mind at least, I won't be as vulnerable if the world "south" goes away. And definitely, if you haven't yet, read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. And then everything else by Barbara Kingsolver.

Nerves

Well hello world.... I've finally made the leap and started blogging. It's hard to believe I have been thinking about it off and on since the fall of 2009 when I attended a workshop about writing and the internet. I guess I still feel a little creeped out about putting it all out there for the world to see. Probably this is also why I have never really tried to publish anything before today. I have placed my writing in neatly labeled envelopes, complete with the SASE inside (self-addressed, stamped envelope) so an editor can send my work back more expeditiously. I have placed the neatly labeled envelope on the table, but never put a stamp on the outside. Never dropped it in the mailbox. I did manage a couple of e-mail queries, but lost steam. I'm hoping the informality of a blog will help me conquer my intense fear of failing, of working up my courage enough to write that thing which is consuming all my thoughts only to have it land with a whisper, unnoticed. Maybe I can join the millions of people online who don't seem anguished by the thought that nobody cares what they have to say. It's a leap of faith really, to speak into the multitude of voices already competing for attention. What if no one is listening?