Simple farming existence.
There is something primeval about being awoken by a rooster. It is amazingly simplistic, removed and anti-capitalistic. There is also something unarguably natural about chasing chickens from a field of budding peony sprouts, like chasing another animal from your freshly killed carcass. Instead, in this case, the carcass is a field of plant matter, which symbolically fills your wallet and your stomach.
It’s a simple existence out at Alaska Blooms Peony Farm. Mulching the hot-pink peony buds and weeding the terrible zombie horsetail are the main duties. As per the horsetail, you have to aim for the head, but the head is underground, connected to the heads of other zombie horsetails. It never dies. My favorite event so far was just walking out on the dock and having the trumpeter swans come out and beg for bread. They are gracefully quiet, beautiful. The only simple sound is the quiet splash of their webbed feet swimming in the lake. A quiet view of the mountains, birch trees and a detailed view of swan feathers is akin to finding peace, locating one’s center. I have yet to see a moose, even though scat litters areas of the fenced in farm. Yes, it’s fenced, and yes, they go through the ropes. Amazing for animals that aren’t terribly bright. Wade woke up at 5 am one morning and happened to gaze out at the farm to see one female moose grazing. Jealous. Discussion topics out here such as the intelligence of chickens and moose, rotting oranges, the diet of leeches, the habitat of trumpeter swans, the lack of lizards in cold climates, and how cranes walk and sound like velociraptors fill up the day.
“I read that chickens were actually pretty intelligent. I mean, Flannery O’Connor trained two of them to walk backwards, so they must not be too stupid.”
“If you dropped them off somewhere in Alaska in the wild, they wouldn’t be able to survive. They have ADD. And short-term memory loss.”
“Ugh...this orange is rotting.” (scowls)
(sniffs) “Smells ok to me? It looks a little darker than usual.”
“See how it’s mushy and darker around the peel?”
“Because I’m not a chicken.”
Getting here was more of an adventure than being here has been. When I finally arrived in Anchorage, after a full day of flying through several time zones, doped up on lattes and two-three hours of non-continuous sleep, I was absolutely delirious. It was 8pm and broad daylight, but it felt like midnight, EST. It was a dream, land of midnight sun. I was somewhere between light and shadow, between substance and ideas. Flying over the Pacific Northwest and Seattle, however, made it all worth it. The evergreen trees coat the area like grease in a pan of bacon. Yes, I had bacon for breakfast. Yes, it was hormone, nitrate and antibiotic free. Minutes before landing, we flew close to downtown Seattle, passing the Space Needle. Amazingly breathtaking. Flying over the evergreen forests was particularly refreshing after passing over miles of desert out west. Mesas, mountains, and miles of eerie emptiness. No cities, no sign of humans. Frightening, but also wonderful. Up until that moment over the desert, I had never realized how much I took trees for granted, and as we neared Seattle, as tree after tree became visible, I became giddy with release.
Depending on the day here, the time, and the weather, there is an amazing view of the Aleutian Mountain Range from the parking lot of the local grocery store, The Three Bears. Los Tres Osos. Call me goldilocks, but for a small grocery in a small town, they really do have it just right. The availability of organic and gluten free options in astounding, excluding, of course, produce, which is understandable. Apparently up here, more people care about eating real, good food, even in towns that may not give off that appearance. Anyway. Back to mountains. Even at 6:30 pm, the snow is so white, just looking at it gives you that feeling, that overwhelming feeling that there is no English word for. On May 11th, the view was the clearest it has been. I watched a small plane fly over the range as I drove out of the parking lot of The Three Bears. Oh, I might add, in a car with a manual transmission. I feel close to being a master driver...I mean, I'm driving in traffic already, and that's so much more than I was willing to do even three weeks ago.
Little did I know, just a few days later, May 13th, I would really be driving in traffic. Fourth gear. Busy road, Highway 3. Main road going through Wasilla. While hanging out in the waiting room of Wade’s new chiropractor around lunchtime, I was privy to some important local intel. According to the locals, smoking is allowed in bars around here, but only during the week. Also according to the locals, homeless people are disgusting, and I didn’t get the vibe that they just meant scent-wise.
"When I was in styling school, all kinds of people would come in for haircuts. Homeless people...ugh...”
(simultaneous group sigh of disgust)
They also won't stop talking about bartenders, hair styling, cute little girls with cute hair, burlesque dancing, "triple the glitter," and getting their nails done.
"Also, yeah, not looking forward to going back to college. I was thinking about high school...you know, all those nerdy kids are the ones who do so well in college..."
About that. Yeah, the nerdy kids. The kids too concerned with political corruption in America (and abroad), girls kidnapped and raped by Boko Haram, earthquakes in Nepal, and feeding homeless people to have a 45 minute discussion on hair. I’m trying to read something of substance over here and you are ruining it. After spending my first day in Wasilla, I compared it to Effingham County, Georgia, where I went to high school, except add a Target, a large thrift store called the Value Village, and a couple more grocery stores and restaurants. Low population count overall, low IQ count, high counts of boredom, and high counts of meth. Of course, Sarah Palin does set such a high standard. But I can see Russia from the Value Village!
Midnight Sun Brewing Co. and their #rapebeer. This promotes rape culture. People don’t buy rape beer. Just ask @AnheuserBusch and their #upforwhatever campaign. It didn’t go over so well.
Quality condiments sold right here in Wasilla, Alaska. Pretty hysterically awesome, actually.
Peaches and Cream, resident trumpeter swans. Not that I support feeding wildlife, because it’s dangerously irresponsible to allow wild animals to rely on humans for food, but the swans’ expectation of bread was the only reason they got so close. Even ate out of my hand. But seriously. They don’t pass down knowledge on how to feed themselves if they rely too heavily on food from humans.
Sub Pop Records. Seattle-Tacmona airport.
View of Seattle and the Space Needle.
Manspreading armrest style on the flight to Anchorage from Seattle.
Second-story view of the office. Alaska Blooms Peony Farm.
View of the Aleutian Range from the parking lot of The Three Bears in Wasilla.
This bread may be the death of me. Delicious. Local company, local bakery. Only eight ingredients, all of which are pronounceable, two of which are apples, because some are dried and some aren’t? Plus, unbleached flour! It’s not gluten free, and definitely not sugar free, but where else have you seen bread even close to being this real?! Wade made french toast with it. No words.
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