Even though I don’t sometimes feel my place I am learning that place isn’t as hard as I thought it appeared to be scary at times .. it’s been in me all along it’s simply describing everything we pay attention to as far as the east is to the west .. I’m glad I signed up .. and you have inspired me beyond measure.. you feel like home to me ..
I had a similar conversation in my last podcast episode. Thought-provoking how being more digitally focused has led us to be less handy, with less imagination, and completely intolerant of boredom. Not to mention less community-minded and more individualistic it seems.
My husband, Bob, and I are both retired social workers - he worked with Hospice and I worked in a school system counseling pregnant teens. We've also loved the outdoors, and raised our children, now 28 and almost 30, to find outdoor adventures. Fortunately for them, and us, having a computer or cell phone came about when they were middle school and not earlier. We lived in South Florida and every weekend either went snorkeling, hiking, paddling or just exploring some new place outdoors in south and central Florida. Now each does the same as adults, and Bob and I have all the time we want to be outdoors since retiring almost 6 years ago. We moved to northeast Florida and have discovered new woods to hike and places to paddle and fish. We have a screened-in back porch now and daily see birds, squirrels, owls, hawks and deer, along with the sounds of frogs and crickets and the occasional sighting of a bobcat, from the small stand of trees and creek behind our house. And our town does not feel the need to have lots of street lights, meaning that when night comes, it is almost completely dark out back, which we love.
We have also had more time to cook. Bob has always been a wonderful cook, using his knowledge of spices and trying new ideas. I have usually been the dessert or side dish cook, but have been experimenting more with all sorts of dishes, including baking totally from scratch now. Your ideas of recipes and growing our own vegetables have inspired us. This past Thanksgiving, I even decided to try to make the Boozy Rum Cake you had on your newsletter months ago that you made for Raven for his birthday! I can't believe how well it turned out and it was absolutely delicious! Thank you for that and to Raven for requesting it so that you posted the recipe! I had a request to make it again for Christmas!
In that post about Raven and his birthday cake, we noticed the tee shirt that he was wearing -- from Sandy Creek Nature Center in Athens, GA. We knew you had been asked to speak at Sandy Creek for their 50th Anniversary because our daughter, Annalise, was also invited. Annalise moved from South Florida in 2017 to attend UGA for a masters degree from the Warnell School of Forestry and Natural Resources. Before she was able to get a teacher assistant position there, she was an intern at Sandy Creek. She wasn't able to attend their anniversary celebration due to a work conflict, however, she loved working there and has taken us to Sandy Creek when we have visited. So when Raven was wearing a Sandy Creek tee shirt, we immediately shared that with Annalise! What a small world! After graduation, Annalise worked for USDA in Hartwell, and last year she began working for American Farm Land Trust. She and her husband, Chris, hunt, hike, paddle, grow their own plants, and are amazing cooks. Chris has viewed many videos, as mentioned by another commenter, in order to repair an old truck they have. Our son, Jeremy, continues to hike, paddle and fish, and worked with a recreational outdoor company for several years. So there are endless possibilities for all of us to be in nature all around us and conserve our earth, and continue to be less analog.
Bob and I have found your Trackless Wild newsletters to be very inspiring, and we have shared many posts with others. We have read several of your books, and we appreciate your love, support and enthusiasm for our world that we all so desperately need to help preserve. Happy birthday to you and enjoy your visit with your son!
I’ve been living an analog life for quite some time. I often feel old fashioned & boring because of the simple things I love to do like gardening & cooking from scratch.
Your story of the tree was so anxiety inducing because we’ve taken down many just that way & my fear is always that a cable or chain will break hitting someone & injuring them. Thankful for your friend with a backhoe. Friends like that are nice to have nearby.
Having a handy husband is one of my life’s blessings but I do worry if I’d be able to do these things on my own. Nowadays I often ask him to show me how to do things.
My heart swells knowing that your son is coming to visit you. ❤️
I can’t stop thinking about the Analog Life. I asked an 8 year old what his plans were for the weekend the other day. He said he would probably lie on his bed and watch YouTube videos. I suggested maybe he go outside and build something with sticks. He looked at me like I had three heads. “How would I do that?“ he asked. The same day, a college student told me she was going to be bored because her boyfriend was going to be out of town for the weekend, and asked me what she should do. I said she should make collages. She asked if that was an app.
Because it’s true & it’s sad. When my grand boys come visit, I try very hard not to turn on the tv or use any digital devices. We play in the woods & garden, help grandaddy feed the chickens, & I make everything a game. They’re only 3 & 4. Hubby gets irritated with their “helping” sometimes, but I tell him, this is the time to be as patient as possible with them so they’ll like coming here & doing these things. We’re building an analog foundation.
Both my parents were/are super handy. Both woodworkers. Both able to do most home repairs. I feel horribly inept, but was pleased with myself when I helped by husband fix a leak in my kids sink. You really can learn a lot on YouTube, my husband uses it all the time.
I’ve taken up crochet, which reminds me of my grandmother. Sadly, it’s more expensive for me to make something than buy it. This fact feels heartbreaking to me.
I just commented and it posted twice. When I tried to delete on, it deleted them both. Kudos to you for helping fix the leak! My husband is super handy and I'm so grateful. I know what you mean about the expense. I learned that when I started to knit. I was shocked to find saving money could not justify my expenditures.
When I got a guitar as many young men of my generation did, mine was an acoustic. I have plunked away for over 50 years making glacial progress, overthinking and second guessing myself, playing to have a glimmer of what heroes—Doc Watson, Jorma Kaukonen, to name two—can do.
I have rarely felt I have the music in my hands, that the music will come out without thinking. Until now, at least a little.
I have very slightly altered my tuning, lowering the bass string a full step to what is called Drop D. Putting the notes of the D scale right there, I can all of a sudden just play gospel tunes like Will The Circle Be Unbroken, Swing Low Sweet Chariot, I’ll Fly Away, And We Bid You Goodnight, Amazing Grace and, now, Sloop John B. The formidable world of Bahamian master Joseph Spence is at least now understandable.
An acoustic guitar is definitely analog. Making music can still be also so long as we vibrate our vocal cords, strings, columns of air, and the heads of drums and cymbals with our hands and mouths.
My hands are: key tappers, pen movers, photo takers, skin strokers, walking stick holders, baby changers, toddler supporters, knitting needle maneuverers, congratulations clappers, open to what is, book holders, meal makers, trying not to be fists, clumsy and thick on guitar strings, reluctant to get dirty in the garden and the painting studio but oh how they love both places, reaching for and extending kindness and welcome, lovers of the feel of tree bark, polished wood, silky fabric, textures, and fur; they love opening windows to the light and air and closing doors in favor of solitude and silence; they gather loved ones close and remain ready to help when needed. My hands seek to do whatever they can to increase decency and dignity for all fellow beings on this planet.
I enjoy the recipes you share. What does Substack know about fig preserves? Also, while I appreciate Raven's pragmatism, I have screwed myself a couple times trying to play mechanic with youtube videos. One time I replaced three parts in my truck before taking it to a professional and finding out that the problem was an inexpensive sensor gone bad. Also also, cheers to at least balancing the digital drudgery with analog activities. Much Love to you, friend. Hoping to see your face in 2024. Happy early birthday!
My folks are in the sort of health that kills most folks their age and grounds much younger people, yet they still scraped and painted their porch in preparation for hosting Thanksgiving year before last. They wouldn’t let anyone help them, including their kids, because they don’t like to accept help unless they must. It took them a few months, and it looked great.
I’ve been trying to write down all of the small, infinitely practical things my father has said to me over his life. Really small stuff like, “Don’t drink out of the water hose without letting it run to cold first.” I’d never repeated that to anyone until a few years ago when I took my son and his girlfriend to the beach, and they grabbed a hose to rinse their feet, and I shouted, “Wait, wait! It’ll burn you.” Sure enough the water coiled in the hose would’ve scalded them.
I am so much less capable than I was raised to be, and I think a lot of it is decades in the city and a life that moves way too fast to not grab up the phone and call for help when something needs fixing.
In the spirit of fixing things yourself, I'm adding one of four sections of a recent braided essay. Thanks one and all--and especially Janisse--for your beautiful inspiration!
Let’s see how far we get without a man, Judith says, on the heels of her own leak, knowing the art of troubleshooting. We turn the water off and on to the toilets, the sinks, the irrigation system. I turn knobs in the house; she watches the meter race or slow. Then she brings the big gun, the water key, long steel rod whose fisted end grabs the meter bolt to make the harder turn. My neighbor the Master Gardener, Judith is glamorous no matter how sweaty or grimy, in cutoffs, hair roped over her shoulder. In the meter well, the leak is clear as day. Only then do I call the city utility, who naturally says it’s mine to fix. Before the men come—plumber, trench diggers—I kneel on the rose bed soon to be uprooted and press my weight on the key both morning and night; I turn off the meter to keep it from whizzing away, farewelling all that money like an oil gusher’s black gold. I’ve gotten far without a man, cord cut not of my choosing, my path cleared of eggshells and hot coals. I’ve been down with woman’s work for years—down in the cellar’s damp cavern, leaks springing, leading me to the subterranean source from which all questionable blessings flow. Water and water key a kind of doxology: combination of doxa, “glory,” and logos, “a speaking,” an anthem of praise to my own hands and steely nature, grounding myself despite distress, trying not strip the threads of whatever grip I wield. I think of my grandmother’s Glory be, rising before first light to her days hunched at the factory machine. How to praise as worn joints burst deep down. How uncertainty washes over and through me like the old Baptist hymns she sang trembly, deep as the marrow I sucked from the drumstick at her Sunday table. Deeper still, where the only light is the lantern we carry within, where silver springs ripple underground, a language out of body and time, spoken best by a woman on her knees in the muck, in solitary wonder of what rises here below.
I’m going to wager you know about “sucking and blowing” wells. Depending on aquifer recharge or discharge, when discharging (low rainfall) air is sucked in at the top of the casing! Can you say windchill?
Cooter Mills (no one knew his right and proper first name) drilled our well so I gave him a call. And so I learned about the airflow dynamics. Since I owned a soldering torch he suggested I use a low flame that would thaw the ice plug. Bingo!
Thanks for your all around dynamite, figuratively speaking, story Janisse.
This year I am learning hand built pottery and how to properly clean and maintain a sewing machine. I continue to learn and enjoy cooking and making simple herbal products, gardening - growing herbs, flowers, vegetables and learn about and plant native plants. There are several projects that I no longer have the strength to do, so looking for a person to help.
I can relate to your entire story, especially the part of being the one (hesitantly) on the tractor! Thanks to Katharine Beckett Winship’s restack of your post, which is how I found your substack.
Even though I don’t sometimes feel my place I am learning that place isn’t as hard as I thought it appeared to be scary at times .. it’s been in me all along it’s simply describing everything we pay attention to as far as the east is to the west .. I’m glad I signed up .. and you have inspired me beyond measure.. you feel like home to me ..
An app on my phone tried to read this post in a synthesized voice. Talk about digital overload!
I had a similar conversation in my last podcast episode. Thought-provoking how being more digitally focused has led us to be less handy, with less imagination, and completely intolerant of boredom. Not to mention less community-minded and more individualistic it seems.
My husband, Bob, and I are both retired social workers - he worked with Hospice and I worked in a school system counseling pregnant teens. We've also loved the outdoors, and raised our children, now 28 and almost 30, to find outdoor adventures. Fortunately for them, and us, having a computer or cell phone came about when they were middle school and not earlier. We lived in South Florida and every weekend either went snorkeling, hiking, paddling or just exploring some new place outdoors in south and central Florida. Now each does the same as adults, and Bob and I have all the time we want to be outdoors since retiring almost 6 years ago. We moved to northeast Florida and have discovered new woods to hike and places to paddle and fish. We have a screened-in back porch now and daily see birds, squirrels, owls, hawks and deer, along with the sounds of frogs and crickets and the occasional sighting of a bobcat, from the small stand of trees and creek behind our house. And our town does not feel the need to have lots of street lights, meaning that when night comes, it is almost completely dark out back, which we love.
We have also had more time to cook. Bob has always been a wonderful cook, using his knowledge of spices and trying new ideas. I have usually been the dessert or side dish cook, but have been experimenting more with all sorts of dishes, including baking totally from scratch now. Your ideas of recipes and growing our own vegetables have inspired us. This past Thanksgiving, I even decided to try to make the Boozy Rum Cake you had on your newsletter months ago that you made for Raven for his birthday! I can't believe how well it turned out and it was absolutely delicious! Thank you for that and to Raven for requesting it so that you posted the recipe! I had a request to make it again for Christmas!
In that post about Raven and his birthday cake, we noticed the tee shirt that he was wearing -- from Sandy Creek Nature Center in Athens, GA. We knew you had been asked to speak at Sandy Creek for their 50th Anniversary because our daughter, Annalise, was also invited. Annalise moved from South Florida in 2017 to attend UGA for a masters degree from the Warnell School of Forestry and Natural Resources. Before she was able to get a teacher assistant position there, she was an intern at Sandy Creek. She wasn't able to attend their anniversary celebration due to a work conflict, however, she loved working there and has taken us to Sandy Creek when we have visited. So when Raven was wearing a Sandy Creek tee shirt, we immediately shared that with Annalise! What a small world! After graduation, Annalise worked for USDA in Hartwell, and last year she began working for American Farm Land Trust. She and her husband, Chris, hunt, hike, paddle, grow their own plants, and are amazing cooks. Chris has viewed many videos, as mentioned by another commenter, in order to repair an old truck they have. Our son, Jeremy, continues to hike, paddle and fish, and worked with a recreational outdoor company for several years. So there are endless possibilities for all of us to be in nature all around us and conserve our earth, and continue to be less analog.
Bob and I have found your Trackless Wild newsletters to be very inspiring, and we have shared many posts with others. We have read several of your books, and we appreciate your love, support and enthusiasm for our world that we all so desperately need to help preserve. Happy birthday to you and enjoy your visit with your son!
Betty Wershoven
I’ve been living an analog life for quite some time. I often feel old fashioned & boring because of the simple things I love to do like gardening & cooking from scratch.
Your story of the tree was so anxiety inducing because we’ve taken down many just that way & my fear is always that a cable or chain will break hitting someone & injuring them. Thankful for your friend with a backhoe. Friends like that are nice to have nearby.
Having a handy husband is one of my life’s blessings but I do worry if I’d be able to do these things on my own. Nowadays I often ask him to show me how to do things.
My heart swells knowing that your son is coming to visit you. ❤️
I can’t stop thinking about the Analog Life. I asked an 8 year old what his plans were for the weekend the other day. He said he would probably lie on his bed and watch YouTube videos. I suggested maybe he go outside and build something with sticks. He looked at me like I had three heads. “How would I do that?“ he asked. The same day, a college student told me she was going to be bored because her boyfriend was going to be out of town for the weekend, and asked me what she should do. I said she should make collages. She asked if that was an app.
This made me laugh so hard. 🤣🤣🤣
Because it’s true & it’s sad. When my grand boys come visit, I try very hard not to turn on the tv or use any digital devices. We play in the woods & garden, help grandaddy feed the chickens, & I make everything a game. They’re only 3 & 4. Hubby gets irritated with their “helping” sometimes, but I tell him, this is the time to be as patient as possible with them so they’ll like coming here & doing these things. We’re building an analog foundation.
I’m not trying to speak badly of people and other generations. I just think this speaks to the urgency of where we’ve come with our digital lives.
Both my parents were/are super handy. Both woodworkers. Both able to do most home repairs. I feel horribly inept, but was pleased with myself when I helped by husband fix a leak in my kids sink. You really can learn a lot on YouTube, my husband uses it all the time.
I’ve taken up crochet, which reminds me of my grandmother. Sadly, it’s more expensive for me to make something than buy it. This fact feels heartbreaking to me.
I just commented and it posted twice. When I tried to delete on, it deleted them both. Kudos to you for helping fix the leak! My husband is super handy and I'm so grateful. I know what you mean about the expense. I learned that when I started to knit. I was shocked to find saving money could not justify my expenditures.
It is very disappointing, but I hope it hasn’t kept you from knitting! I used to knit before crochet. I’ve been thinking to learn to knit socks!
My analog dream with my hands:
When I got a guitar as many young men of my generation did, mine was an acoustic. I have plunked away for over 50 years making glacial progress, overthinking and second guessing myself, playing to have a glimmer of what heroes—Doc Watson, Jorma Kaukonen, to name two—can do.
I have rarely felt I have the music in my hands, that the music will come out without thinking. Until now, at least a little.
I have very slightly altered my tuning, lowering the bass string a full step to what is called Drop D. Putting the notes of the D scale right there, I can all of a sudden just play gospel tunes like Will The Circle Be Unbroken, Swing Low Sweet Chariot, I’ll Fly Away, And We Bid You Goodnight, Amazing Grace and, now, Sloop John B. The formidable world of Bahamian master Joseph Spence is at least now understandable.
An acoustic guitar is definitely analog. Making music can still be also so long as we vibrate our vocal cords, strings, columns of air, and the heads of drums and cymbals with our hands and mouths.
My hands can do that better these days.
My hands are: key tappers, pen movers, photo takers, skin strokers, walking stick holders, baby changers, toddler supporters, knitting needle maneuverers, congratulations clappers, open to what is, book holders, meal makers, trying not to be fists, clumsy and thick on guitar strings, reluctant to get dirty in the garden and the painting studio but oh how they love both places, reaching for and extending kindness and welcome, lovers of the feel of tree bark, polished wood, silky fabric, textures, and fur; they love opening windows to the light and air and closing doors in favor of solitude and silence; they gather loved ones close and remain ready to help when needed. My hands seek to do whatever they can to increase decency and dignity for all fellow beings on this planet.
I enjoy the recipes you share. What does Substack know about fig preserves? Also, while I appreciate Raven's pragmatism, I have screwed myself a couple times trying to play mechanic with youtube videos. One time I replaced three parts in my truck before taking it to a professional and finding out that the problem was an inexpensive sensor gone bad. Also also, cheers to at least balancing the digital drudgery with analog activities. Much Love to you, friend. Hoping to see your face in 2024. Happy early birthday!
Loved this post.
My folks are in the sort of health that kills most folks their age and grounds much younger people, yet they still scraped and painted their porch in preparation for hosting Thanksgiving year before last. They wouldn’t let anyone help them, including their kids, because they don’t like to accept help unless they must. It took them a few months, and it looked great.
I’ve been trying to write down all of the small, infinitely practical things my father has said to me over his life. Really small stuff like, “Don’t drink out of the water hose without letting it run to cold first.” I’d never repeated that to anyone until a few years ago when I took my son and his girlfriend to the beach, and they grabbed a hose to rinse their feet, and I shouted, “Wait, wait! It’ll burn you.” Sure enough the water coiled in the hose would’ve scalded them.
I am so much less capable than I was raised to be, and I think a lot of it is decades in the city and a life that moves way too fast to not grab up the phone and call for help when something needs fixing.
In the spirit of fixing things yourself, I'm adding one of four sections of a recent braided essay. Thanks one and all--and especially Janisse--for your beautiful inspiration!
Let’s see how far we get without a man, Judith says, on the heels of her own leak, knowing the art of troubleshooting. We turn the water off and on to the toilets, the sinks, the irrigation system. I turn knobs in the house; she watches the meter race or slow. Then she brings the big gun, the water key, long steel rod whose fisted end grabs the meter bolt to make the harder turn. My neighbor the Master Gardener, Judith is glamorous no matter how sweaty or grimy, in cutoffs, hair roped over her shoulder. In the meter well, the leak is clear as day. Only then do I call the city utility, who naturally says it’s mine to fix. Before the men come—plumber, trench diggers—I kneel on the rose bed soon to be uprooted and press my weight on the key both morning and night; I turn off the meter to keep it from whizzing away, farewelling all that money like an oil gusher’s black gold. I’ve gotten far without a man, cord cut not of my choosing, my path cleared of eggshells and hot coals. I’ve been down with woman’s work for years—down in the cellar’s damp cavern, leaks springing, leading me to the subterranean source from which all questionable blessings flow. Water and water key a kind of doxology: combination of doxa, “glory,” and logos, “a speaking,” an anthem of praise to my own hands and steely nature, grounding myself despite distress, trying not strip the threads of whatever grip I wield. I think of my grandmother’s Glory be, rising before first light to her days hunched at the factory machine. How to praise as worn joints burst deep down. How uncertainty washes over and through me like the old Baptist hymns she sang trembly, deep as the marrow I sucked from the drumstick at her Sunday table. Deeper still, where the only light is the lantern we carry within, where silver springs ripple underground, a language out of body and time, spoken best by a woman on her knees in the muck, in solitary wonder of what rises here below.
I’m going to wager you know about “sucking and blowing” wells. Depending on aquifer recharge or discharge, when discharging (low rainfall) air is sucked in at the top of the casing! Can you say windchill?
Cooter Mills (no one knew his right and proper first name) drilled our well so I gave him a call. And so I learned about the airflow dynamics. Since I owned a soldering torch he suggested I use a low flame that would thaw the ice plug. Bingo!
Thanks for your all around dynamite, figuratively speaking, story Janisse.
My hands
scroll, and scroll, and scroll.
Press POWER on the TV remote
and my ears hear the TODAY show
say it's all about getting back
to nature, try these Great
Home Hacks: shred chicken
with your hand mixer--and yes,
this is on while I'm typing.
A new book! The Waters. On
Amazon 44 percent have awarded
5 stars (80 percent is my cut-off)
(not really). Turn off the TV and
silence is a gift
a deep lake of peace
and why not just loll
in daydreams of what I could do
if I just watched The Cabin Guy
build a pier foundation or loll
while
in another YouTube video,
LibraVox Audio reads
The Voyage of the Beagle. Yes,
those are just two of twenty tabs
in my current browser window though
there are twenty more in an easily
(click!) accessed alternate window.
Stop. Go. Outside.
This year I am learning hand built pottery and how to properly clean and maintain a sewing machine. I continue to learn and enjoy cooking and making simple herbal products, gardening - growing herbs, flowers, vegetables and learn about and plant native plants. There are several projects that I no longer have the strength to do, so looking for a person to help.
I can relate to your entire story, especially the part of being the one (hesitantly) on the tractor! Thanks to Katharine Beckett Winship’s restack of your post, which is how I found your substack.