Peak Oil and Urban Agriculture

I just found this great site for an organisation that does training on sustainable farming and urban agriculture, as well as campaigning for a more sustainable and coherent food policy in the USA.  It is definitely worth a read for everyone, not just those interested in agriculture because, in my opinion, urban agriculture is what will save the world (well, the urban part of it, anyway!!):  http://www.growingpower.org/index.htm

I don't know if I've mentioned this before, and so as not to seem hysterical and crazy wierdo armageddon-ist, I don't talk about it much, I just let everyone assume our farming is a lifestyle choice, an environmental choice, a moral choice.  But its more than that -- a very large part of my motivation for our project is simple selfish security.  If we reach peak oil within my lifetime, I don't want my family to starve. 

When most people think of peak oil, they think of transport problems, perhaps they think "ah well, we'll do without the carribean holiday, we'll buy an electric car". and cars can be powered by electricity, methane, used fryer oil from restaurants.  Yes, of course transport is effected by expensive oil, but it is a solve-able problem. We can use alternatives, we can do without, we can walk, we can buy local. 

No, the Really Scary Problem of a world without enough oil is not transport, but agriculture.  The first obvious issue is the work -- the agricultural machines that make mass production possible are all obviously oil powered.  Tractors, combine harvesters, chainsaws, wood chippers --  one farmer cannot cultivate 200 hectares of corn with a remote controlled tractor if the fuel for the tractor costs more than the corn will earn.   A single barrel of oil contains the equivalent of about 20,000 hours of human labour. That's more than 2 years of work for about 150$. (See http://europe.theoildrum.com/node/4315) (in fact there is an interesting thing to think about...the rise in mechanized agriculture and cheap fossil fuel coinciding with the abolition of slavery...would humans have had the same moral strength and conviction to abolish slavery if they didn't have a cheap labour alternative?...i don't know, but its interesting to think about).  

But that is only the small problem, and solvable... if there is no diesel for the tractors, then we can go back to horses and oxen.  And perhaps there will be enough people hungry and out of work that there will be plenty of man-labour instead of oil-labour to replace the oil used in machines.  Or perhaps we can invent solar powered tractors and electric chainsaws.  We can make methane cars, why not combine harvesters?  And we really are a very clever species, we will come up with alternative ways of doing the work if we really need to.

No, the real problem is soil health.  Gosh, that doesn't really sound like a scary problem does it?  Dirt Fitness isn't on everybodies cocktail conversation list.  But a huge percentage of the world's food production is completely reliant on chemical fertilizers.  Pretty much the entire american food production (except for those few hippy dippy organic producers) wouldn't be possible without it.  I don't know much about the health implications of such fertilizers, and that's not my argument at the moment -- in a social aspect, they are a wonderful thing because they increase the crop yields enormously, and make it possible for enormous amounts of food to be grown.  Enough to feed the whole world, power lots of bio-diesel cars, and even burn up tons just to keep the prices up.  Hunger sucks.  I'm all for something that makes it possible for no one on the planet to go hungry (wouldn't it be great if it actually worked like that, if surplus was sent where it was needed rather than wasted, sigh...).

There's a but though...(isn't there always?). The use of chemical fertilizers has replaced any need to maintain soil health, a laborious and delicate job.  Why bother rotating crops when you can throw down some potassium nitrate and be done with it, with better yield too?  And manure...ick!  Did they really once actually fertilise our food with poo...eeeeeew.

Result?  A huge and scary percentage (I forget the exact number so I won't mention it, but it was, like, huge.) of the main crop producing arable land is now sterile.  Without the addition of nitrate fertilisers, the barren soil will not produce food.  Have you guessed where this is going?...

Yes, nitrate based fertilisers are a petrolium product.  If we don't have cheap oil, we don't have cheap fertilisers.  And if we don't have fertilisers, we don't have food. No matter how many clever ways we figure out to do the work, at the end of the day, the plant needs to be fed.  A plant eats decomposed and digested life -- in healthy sustainable agriculture, that means manure, compost, anything biodegradable gets broken down by the worms and the microbes in the soil and turned into nitrates and other nutrients for the plants to eat. ( In the case of petrolium by-product fertilizers, what the plants are being fed is basically compressed dinosaur poop: same shit, different billenia)  A soil without microbes and worms cannot sustain life. And a soil that has been chemically fertilised, pesticided relentlessly, and never ever rotated or rested, has not got microbes and worms.  

Its not enough to stick a seed in the dirt.  You have to stick a seed in good dirt.

Oh, and I just love it when someone says to me "I'm not worried about peak-oil, after all we have bio-diesel now and can power our cars with corn"  ay yi yi.  Sorry fella, no oil, no corn.

It takes about 30-40 years for an average sterile field to regain its natural soil health when left to its own devices.  When helped along by the farmer (adding compost, building it up year by year, with lighter green manure crops first, then heavy nitrate producing plants like the velvet runner bean) it can take as little as 10 years.  10 years is a very long time for just about everyone to be hungry.  Most sociologists give any given civilization 3 missed meals before things start getting skanky.  

This is what we affectionately refer to as "WTSHTF"  also known as "TEOTWAWKI".  (that would be "when the shit hits the fan" or "the end of the world as we know it" to those of you as yet unindoctrinated...and just an aside question, is the shit hitting the fan dinosaur shit?? ).

Ok, so anyway, that's the bad news.  Here's the good news...its already happened.  Cuba.  1989.  Soviet Union falls, Cuba is cut off from its entire oil supply.  The agriculture, once a marvel of modern technology (really, cuban agriculture was super duper modern in the 80s), ground to a halt.  As an average, every single cuban lost about 10kg (22 pounds) in the first year.  They were hungry.  But they didn't starve to death.

They developed urban agriculture.  Everyone started producing what they could, where they could.  The mass production crop fields were useless, but the suburbs all turned over lawns and parks to market gardens.  The highrises in the cities started growing tomatoes on the balconies instead of geraniums.   Look around...there is a lot of empty good dirt even in the city.  And a bit at a time, the main crop fields were rejuvenated and brought back to life.  Much like the victory gardens in London during ww2.  A city can produce almost enough food to feed itself, if the people know how! 

 So, yeah, um, that's what we're doing really.  I guess I'm out of the wierdo closet now.  We are learning how.  We are hoping to help other people learn how too, if we can. So that when (if) that moment comes where the price of oil is too high to permit chemical fertilisation, there will be an alternative way to make food already on the table (so to speak!), already tried and already tested and already producing. 

I'm counting on this change coming slowly, peak oil doesn't mean today we have oil and tomorrow we don't.  Peak oil means the point at which we are consuming more oil than we are digging up, but there will still be oil, and it will be a slow turnover as things are reprioritised as the reserves get eaten up.

'Cause if the shit really does hit the fan hard and fast, I doubt we will be able to defend our wee plot...I'm planning on getting a shotgun and learning how to use it, but if the zombies are coming and they are hungry enough, my puny shot gun won't keep them off long...so lets hope we can make enough pockets of change before its so terribly necessary, and build up communities that are feeding themselves more and more -- lets start making the change to local produce rather than relying on the produce of sterile soil thousands of miles away...then maybe we can avert the zombies...

Right, so, back to the beginning...these guys are cool, check it out:

http://www.growingpower.org/index.htm.
Also google and read up on permaculture and guerilla gardening -- its not the end of the world...just the end of the world as we know it!

Ottimismo e anarcosocialismo reale a Provaglio Valsabbia

Ho già raccontato di Peppino in un post precedente.

Qualche giorno fa viene a trovarmi e mi dice che un suo amico ha una costa piena di spini da ripulire. Gli ha chiesto di portare le sue pecore per svolgere il lavoro. Il buon Peppino suggerisce invece all'amico Geppe di impiegare le mie capre, perchè il "broc" ovvero la crescita del giovane bosco che sta crescendo là è roba per capre e non pecore, ed io sono a due passi, mentre le sue pecore sono in fondo alla via Canale, a 4km di distanza.
Guardo Peppino un po' interdetto: "Cosa mi frega di portarle a ripulire la boscaglia del Geppe, qui ci sono ettari di bosco in tutte le direzioni, non mi serve". Peppino mi dice di seguirlo e non preoccuparmi, che visto il posto capirò.

"Tu digli sempre di sì e stai zitto, lascia parlare me che quello è originale", mi ordina. Va bene, mi dico, non posso contraddirlo, andiamo a vedere.

Sono due o trecento metri di distanza da me, due passi. Passiamo per il bosco, una radura, poi un prato si apre davanti. Recintato, sarà un ettaro e mezzo. E in fondo c'è una bella baracchina in cui ripararsi quando piove. Ci sono due vasche da bagno, per l'acqua.
Il recinto necessita di qualche riparazione, ma tutto sommato è ancora passabile. Geppe ci teneva 50 pecore. "Stai zitto che te lo faccio prendere", mi dice Peppino.

In effetti il Geppe è ragionevole e amichevole, e in cinque minuti ci si accorda sull'uso che potrò fare del suo recinto, in pratica e' come fosse mio eccetto in settembre quando lui e il fratello sparano dal capanno, allora sara' meglio non tenerci le mie bestiole. Poi dovrò anche sfalciare il pezzo di prato e la piana. Caspita, penso, questo ha un sacco di posto a due passi da me e non se ne fa nulla, ed è disposto ad affidarmelo.

Dopo quelli che mi hanno appena affibbiato alle Piazze, eccone un altro.

Da qui è partita una riflessione su quello che (mi) sta succedendo in Canale: indipendentemente dalla proprietà dei terreni, essi vengono coltivati da chi può farlo, chi ne ha voglia, con o senza attrezzature. Quelle le mette chi le ha, io taglio, lui imballa, l'altro volta, il proprietario... boh. Tutto è a prestito. Nulla e' registrato, e' tutto sulla parola. E i lavori vengono assegnati su basi fiduciarie.

Fermi tutti.

La terra, qui, va a chi la lavora. Orpo! Roba zapatista, mi ricorda quando da bambino guardavo i film spaghetti western e in uno sulla rivoluzione messicana, sentii quello slogan, "la terra è di chi la lavora", una frase, un concetto rivoluzionario e socialista che m'è rimasto in testa fino ad oggi e che sicuramente mi ha influenzato!

E ce n'è ancora! Ci sono l'autorganizzazione del lavoro e la redistribuzione dei terreni, assegnati ancora sulla fiducia, da ciascuno secondo le proprie disponibilità, a ciascuno secondo le proprie necessità. Altro slogan, e anche questo è socialismo, anarcosocialismo. E non solo i terreni, adesso m'e' arrivato un fienile e una stalla, grossi, saranno 3-400mq di roba che posso usare cosi', se mi serve, finche' mi serve. Incredibile!

C'è, in Canal, addirittura l'isolamento sociale dei soggetti indesiderati (ladri). La comunità stessa che supera la necessità delle pene e della coercizione punitiva. Orpo. Ancora anarchia, ancora socialismo. Difatti, a Provaglio non ci sono forze dell'ordine.

Incredibile.
Socialismo reale a Provaglio Valsabbia. Anarchia.

Tutto vero e funzionante, davanti ai miei occhi, sotto al mio naso. In pieno occidente capitalista, Italia, 2012.

E per poco, quasi quasi, se non stavo attento, non me ne accorgevo.

C'è speranza per il mondo.

Allegria!

Le gratificazioni dell'Homo Agricolus - grazie per la fiducia accordata

Alcuni esercizi commerciali scrivono sui sacchetti "grazie per la fiducia accordata". Ipocriti. A loro interessa il mio acquisto, con la mia fiducia non si pagano i fornitori. 

C'è un pastore, in fondo alla via, si chiama Peppino ed ha 50 pecore.
Il Peppino da sempre alleva vacche, pecore e capre e sfalcia e vende fieno che taglia nei suoi tanti prati col trattore e la falciatrice, un lavoro pesante malgrado l'età vada ormai verso gli ottanta.
Sempre per non perdere l'abitudine e tenersi in forma, fa pure il boscaiolo, davanti a casa sua ci sono enormi cataste di legna da tagliare, spaccare, impilare, caricare sul trattore e consegnare.
Col sole, la pioggia, con la neve. Lui è sempre fuori con le sue pecore e suoi cani.
Peppino è una persona per bene, è rispettato e sa farsi rispettare, il suo giudizio su un animale -o su una persona- è pesante, a Sabbio Sopra, quanto quello di una corte di giustizia. Suoi, o dei suoi discendenti e familiari, sono parte dei prati lungo il Canale e nelle Piazze. Li sfalcia lui, anche quelli non di sua proprietà.
Peppino è una persona dalla battuta pronta, il suo sarcasmo è tagliente, anche caustico, ma ogni volta divertente. Sa farsi ascoltare anche quando è irriverente. E' uno giusto.

Certo che lo stimo. E gli porto uno scherzoso, ma sinceramente ossequioso rispetto.

Da quando lavoro in Canale si fa vedere regolarmente, mi studia, chiede cosa faccio, commenta le mie tecniche e lavorazioni che, apprese per lo più sui libri, spesso si discostano dal modo di lavorare che lui conosce meglio, quello tradizionale del posto. Mi piace confrontare con lui pregi e difetti dei vari sistemi e, per rispetto alla conoscenza tradizionale e per uno strano senso del dovere, chiedo, mi informo, mi sforzo di imparare tutto quello che può e vuole insegnare, sulla sfalciatura del fieno, il bosco, le erbe e le piante buone e quelle cattive, l'allevamento, i cani, il pascolo.
Cerco di assorbire il più possibile e ne nascono spesso discussioni stimolanti, anche perchè nonostante l'età si dimostra tutt'altro che scettico o chiuso verso le mie stranezze. Spesso mi loda, e mi piace sorprenderlo con prodotti "esotici" che non conosce. I Topinambur gli sono piaciuti al punto che se ne è fatti dare qualche manciata da piantare questa primavera. La moglie ne va matta, mi dice.

Qualche tempo fa, dopo avermi visitato e ispezionato puntigliosamente le capre, facendomi i complimenti per la scelta, mi giunge voce dal paese che il Peppino dice "in giro" che le mie capre sono tra le più belle che ha mai visto e che, a tenerle bene come le sto tenendo, "le farà bel fes", ovvero mi daranno soddisfazioni. Orbene, mi sono detto, la prima grande soddisfazione me l'ha data proprio lui, la sua approvazione -pubblica, per di più- conta per me più della medaglia alla fiera nazionale. E mi verrebbe da dire che le lodi da sperticare sarebbero quelle degli allevatori che le hanno selezionate e tirate grandi a sufficienza per portarle da me. Ma tant'è, il riconoscimento, almeno per il lavoro che sto facendo, è arrivato e me lo prendo con gusto.

Prima gratificazione.

Seconda: lo scorso anno, mentre sfalcio un prato vicino ai suoi, mi dice che forse per l'anno prossimo mi lascia tagliare uno dei suoi pezzi, visto che mi serve il fieno e visto che sta diventando faticoso per lui da fare con la falciatrice, lui preferirebbe fare solo i pezzi col trattore. Mi sono detto, ad avere la sua grinta, mi aspettano almeno 40 anni di sfalciature in piedi con la BCS. Non so se sarò in grado di trovare una potenza così in me, ci proverò. Se non altro per sfida. Se ci riesce lui, diamine, devo farcela anche io. Tanto non è serio, mi dicevo, figuriamoci se me lo affida davvero. Sta scherzando come al solito, mi provoca per vedere la reazione. Ovviamente accetto con finto entusiasmo. Non posso mica dirgli di no.
Passa un anno e si ricomincia con il fieno, mi ferma mentre passo e mi molla la bomba, "dobbiamo andare alle Piazze che ti mostro i confini".
Ostia.
Era tutto vero.
Andiamo.

Sono emozionato, mi rendo conto che lui, l'ultimo pastore di Sabbio Sopra, l'autorità morale ed etica più alta del Canale, ha chiesto a me, io povero cretino appena arrivato, di sfalciare i suoi prati.
Poteva darli a chiunque, ci sono una mezza dozzina di agricoltori e allevatori che ne hanno bisogno nei paraggi, mica solo io. No, tocca a me. Forse, mi dico, mi vuole solo mettere alla prova. Il prato è molto grande, di certo avrò più fieno di quello che mi serve, ne avrò da vendere.
Eppure non ero il solo ad essere emozionato, credo che anche lui avvertisse un po' la solennità del momento, si comportava stranamente.
Non lo avevo mai visto così severo, serio e preciso. Mi impartiva gli ordini di lavorazione come un caporale con le reclute, "si parte di qua, si volta di là, si infila da questa parte, non farlo là" e via così. Nemmeno una battuta, niente. Finito il giro, si fa riportare a casa e sparisce dentro, niente ciao.

Avere in carico il prato del Peppino è più che un lavoro, è un onore. Una gratificazione personale importante perchè materializza una fiducia data, la fiducia che qualcosa, tra quello che passiamo la vita a fare, grazie a qualcuno prosegue alla faccia dello spettro dell'abbandono, visibile ovunque, nelle terre, nei mestieri, nelle parole. E quel qualcuno sono io. Segare il suo prato è una medaglia che porto sul petto quando incrocio gli altri contadini che sfalciano attorno. C'è scritto "ci sono".

Tutta questa fiducia è inattesa e forse immeritata, certamente sono inadeguato allo scopo, o almeno così mi sento. Non ho nemmeno il posto per tenere via tutto questo fieno. E non va bene per le mie caprette, l'ho venduto a uno che lo darà ai torelli, per loro è perfetto. Dovrò lavorare come un mulo per due lire. Pazienza, si fa lo stesso. E non basta, perchè una volta fatto tutto il terreno assegnato, "se ne avrai ancora voglia", di prato ce n'è ancora il doppio, il triplo, ce n'è a sufficienza per un medio allevamento.

Sono lusingato, onorato, un po' impaurito dalla mole di lavoro e terrorizzato all'idea di deluderlo.

Domani vado a trovarlo con un salame, una boccia di vino, e glielo dico.

Ci provo, Peppino.
Grazie per la fiducia accordata.

Gino has two cows...

OK, so here's a little math problem that would be a nice one for Mia's fourth grade class:

Gino has two cows.  One excellent dairy cow can make as much as 30litres of milk a day. In the super market, "fresh" milk costs about euro 1.60 per litre.  If Gino sold his milk to local families at 1 euro per litre, (a nice savings for the families, and their milk is much better and much fresher than the supermarket milk), he would earn approximately how much per month? If the wholesale buyers give him 20 to 30 cents per litre, how many more cows does he need to make the same amount of money?

Milking each cow takes about 40 minutes a day if he does it by hand and is really good at it.  Putting the milk in bottles and delivering it from the back of his little 50cc electric cart takes about one hour a day.  So how much does Gino earn per hour for his two cows?

That's the math question.  The real question, is why is nobody doing it?  Gino earns about 1800 euros a month for a bit more than 2 hours of work a day.  A factory worker here earns about 1200 euros a month for 9 hours a day of shift work.  And yet I can't think of a single farmer that lives with only a few cows.
(Obviously there are too many risks involved in only two cows -- if one gets ill, you're sunk.  But 4 cows or even 8 and that's loads to have extras for a rainy day and cover for any sickly ones, and with a milking machine 8 cows are milked in no time at all, and this is for the purposes of the argument anyway!)

But even the smallest of dairy farmers has at least 40 or 50 animals.  What's missing??  The direct link between the producer and the consumer is missing. Heh, the missing link!

Antonella's brother-in-law has a Kiwi farm (true story, not like gino!).  Recently, he's getting as little as 10 cents per kg. Today the  national average retail price for kiwis in season (november) is about euro 1.80 per kg .  In between the farmer and me, 1.70 cents has been absorbed into the unproductive part of "the system".  (How on earth the farmers can live on 10cents a kg is beyond me, and if it continues, there will be revolutions. Actually, there already are in Tunisia).  How happy I would be, and the farmer too, to go straight to him and pay him 1 euro a kg, hey even 1.50! for his kiwis.  I save, and he earns appropriate money for his work and production.

And if he is earning 1 euro a kg -- or even 1.50 -- then he has no need to produce quantity.  No need to pump chemical fertilizers into his plants because he must get maximum production at all times.  No need to continually overwork the land.  No need for drastic pesticides.  here's another good problem; at 1 euro per kg, how many kgs does the farmer need to produce to make a decent income?  How many kgs fewer is that than those he needs to produce at 10 cents per kg? And if he has to produce fewer kiwis, he's left with more spare time...more than enough to take his kiwis to market or to his neighbours and sell them himself.

The Kiwis is an exaggerated example, but this situation is the norm, not the exception -- this situation is systematic.   Producer gets 40c per kg for Clementines, I pay 2.25.  8cents per kg for Zucchini, I pay 1 euro.  Dairy farmer gets 20c per litre for milk, I pay 1.60...  The lions share of the money in our exchanges for food products is not going to those who make it, but to those who control its movement.

The REALLY GREAT thing about this is that the solution is easy, its legal, it doesn't involve any extra work, no revolutions and no suffering on anyone's part, in fact it brings a significant increase in quality of life and the food you eat -- JUST BUY LOCAL!!  Go to the farmers market, get to know them, buy your produce from the farmer directly.  There's no law against it (well, except for the stupid raw milk thing in Canada, that's just dumb.  You can buy raw meat, and that's a whole lot more dangerous).

You pay less money, get better fresher produce, which is also more nutritious because in season, and less dangerous because if produced in small local production its much less likely that scary pesticides and fertilizers have been used.  No packaging, no styrofoam trays, no cellophane wrappers, no plastic containers.  No transport, so no diesel fumes poisoning the air.

Down side is less choice -- but how much choice do you really need? And here's the thing...why on earth would you want tomatoes or strawberries in february.  Out of season vegetables are YUCKY! (and much less nutritious)

And you are left with lots of surplus in your food budget to be able to pay the actual worth of a few special imported items.  If you pay 20% less for 90% of your food consumption, you have saved enough money to be able to pay a hefty premium for special imported items. Pay 4 euros a kg for fair trade bio bananas, and you know you're getting quality without someone else suffering for your choice.  So the stuff that you can't live without, but just doesn't grow locally -- that stuff we're willing to pay the middle men for, provided they are  paying the farmers in the first place.  So not even the middle man suffers (much) he still has a job, only his job is providing us with products that add value, not ripping us off from every side of the spectrum.

If there are no local farmers markets,  CSA (Community supported agriculture -- GAS in italian) groups are also an excellent way to get food direct from the producer, save money and increase quality while still maintaining a good deal of choice.

Humph, that's me done on the soap box for today!  And in other news...we go to sign for the mortgage tomorrow!  We should complete on the little farm by next week, yahooo!

The seeds are sown: Why a farm, and how we came to realise it

Sometime in the early days of 2010 Gab and I came to the realisation that something was missing in our lives.  We had done everything we were 'supposed' to do -- we had found success, money, fancy house, lots of stuff.  We had built a wonderful family, beautiful smart and accomplished kids. But still, deep satisfaction evaded us.

I wouldn't say we were unhappy, we had a certain satisfaction coming from the sense that we had done all we ought to be happy, but the feeling wasn't secure -- still something wasn't right.  We were always making tiny adjustments -- kids to tennis instead of karate, new business model at work, paint the walls a different colour.  I could never articulate the hole i was trying to fill, didn't know why things didn't feel as perfect as the picture they painted.  I couldn't have defined it and certainly couldn't find the why or the wherefore, but I was always and constantly searching, poking, experimenting, trying to find the answer.

And thus our adventure to Canada: a one year house exchange with a family in Coquitlam. BC.  It started as yet another experiment, looking for the answer to this niggling dissatisfaction -- maybe it wasn't us, maybe it was living in Italy.  Maybe, if we were in Canada, we would find what we were looking for.

What we found, though, was completely unexpected.  The year away from daily routines and the calciferous build up of habits, patterns, stuff and junk created a space of perspective -- a place where we could look on our lives and see what was important and what wasn't, what came with us and what didn't.  At the same time, we started reading a series of books on global warming, local living, and lifestyle experiments -- No Impact Man By Colin Beavan, Eaarth by Bill McKibben, Animal Vegetable Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver.

And it started dawning on us: the problem wasn't where we were living, but how.

We had achieved the textbook standard for modern successful life, and it wasn't enough.  Never enough.  Life felt a bit like a hamster on a wheel.  More work to get more money to buy more stuff.  More activities for the kids, so they can be more accomplished and have more skills and talents, and thus grow into adults that can do more work to get more money to buy more stuff.

Actually living fell by the wayside.  We had lost connection to the earth, cycles and seasons, the things that sustain us, the things we need to actually stay alive.  We felt a profound need to live in harmony with our environment, sustainably and respectfully.  To make the world a better place actually, really and physically -- restoring fertility to the soil by working it with respect.  As Gab puts it, not to make the revolution, and but to simply be the revolution.

And thus the seeds were sown for our upcoming farm project.  We started studying everything we could get our hands on about gardening, farming, chickens and goats, cows and pigs.  I learned how to make cheese and bread.  Gab learned how to tell a Leghorn from an Orpington, a Saanen from a Toggenberg.  The more we read, the more we realised that it was all very definitely possible.  Certainly not easy, but not beyond us either.

So now we are back in Italy and chomping at the bit to get things started.  We are searching for the right property. Gab already has 5 bantam chickens, set up here in our house and being prepared to be the broodies for when the time comes to start raising lots of chickens.  We have learned to cut hay, and the neighbours empty field is somewhat poorer in alfalfa and wild pea, but our chickens (and Mia's rabbit) will be well fed through the winter.

Sometimes i still have doubts: it will be a lot of work, will I feel trapped?  How will the kids feel about being more remote, away from their friends? but at the same time I have a feeling of excitement for the adventure to come.  Where once I felt a vague emptiness, I now feel full and right and light.  That sense of connection, that deep rooted satisfaction that has evaded me all these years is actually starting to unfold --I can feel it, not an explosive arrival, but like a sunrise, slowing spreading across me, into me, through me.  Thus this new day dawns for us, and we are ready to begin!