The March Hare: Fall '99
Issue 22

Evening breaks at DR

by Chrystina and Peter Bemment

The sound of singing eminates from the "out-door kitchen," the sun is setting on a humid day that has seen people working against the heat to build a pot rack in the kitchen; organize a drying rack for the newly picked potatoes and onions; plant rows of beets; and, start a new solar food dehydrator project. The earth is only now cooling off, the massing clouds are tinged by pink, looking like frothy columns back lit by the sun. In the sky a single star shines above the field where the newcomers have pitched their tents. Behind them in the near distance are others hidden amongst the trees. The Black Locust is conspicuous with its feathery leaves and dangling pods silhouetted against the darkening sky.

Earlier in the day, we sought advice from "Mr. Milkweed," [Kurt] who was sitting by his shelter taking a break from designing the foundations of his new home. In the background stands a sturdy support for a solar array ready for its panels. We discuss collecting water from the various roofs and his plans for a cistern. Later in the day, a local man comes by to negotiate a price for digging the Milkweed's foundations and cistern, a very fair price and both parties are happy. The community is supporting the wider, local community.

Laughter comes from beyond the composting toilet where the Kirk family have set up their tent and kitchen. Near-by, a group of trees have grown up around an old wagon which fell apart in place, its load of Osage Orange wood in tact. The wagon sits as a quiet reminder of the land's history. Originally divided into several homesteads, the decline of family farms caused a gradual consolidation of 280 acres into one farm which was later abandoned altogether. These 280 acres became Dancing Rabbit in 1997.

The "Outdoor Kitchen, OK" was once a pig shed; the well-fertilized pigs'-yard grows vigorous herbs and melons (we hope) all watered with kitchen grey water. At garden center stands a 25ft high, rough pole supporting a bell which rings for dinner.

Recently, the bell also rang for help when the trailer was going out to the wheat field or returning with its load. Over many days, this trailer carried the 3000 or so bales which filled half the machine shed and created a two-story-house-sized pile next to the OK. These are not your normal bales, oh no, these are extra-compressed (read extra-heavy) building bales. Hoisting these in 90+ degree heat would have been unbearable without frequent trips to the pond. It was hottest as we approached the roof of the machine shed - a great physics lesson, heat really rises. A sigh of relief was heard when the shed was full and we moved out to build in the breeze. The work got harder here as we built a step pyramid up to two stories by passing bales hand-to-hand. The stack's ever-growing height amazed us and we paused to enjoy the best viewing point around. We looked over near-by farm buildings and Jacob's favorite, "vista de la moo." Kalen and Jacob seized a rare opportunity for a western-style mock fist fight with creative name-calling and stunt rolls down the bales. What a show!

As the pile neared completion and the field emptied, we slowed down a bit and learned to enjoy such treats as mulberries picked from atop the bale-wagon piled 9-high. Others discovered wild turkeys and enjoyed green woods encroaching on the wheat fields. Work continued into the dark of night on the last day and tarps were hung in moon shadows against the predicted rains. Fireflies flickered above the grass and lit the straw bales with their fairy-like light. The bats also awoke and began their well-loved evening ritual of insect eating. They're mostly noted around the OK, where they swoop through the kitchen and over the herb garden.

Behind the herb garden stands the 'Falling Down Barn.' By day, Martins swoop in and out to feed their nesting chicks and a once-injured opossum makes his home below stacks of lumber salvaged from derelict local barns. At the heart of this barn is the original homestead house whose window openings and peg construction are still visible.

A crescent moon rises amidst clouds behind the barn. To the south, a lightening bolt flashes; there is a long pause before the thunder. The storm is still far off, but a few are prompted to secure their tents. Earlier, more tarps were hung to protect the towering straw bale pile and, to the north, the unfinished Women's Workshop straw bale cabin. The cabin's neighboring structures were already protected. The timber-frame house has a roof and most straw bales in place. The load bearing cabin is a complete structure but tarps sit in lieu of the plaster top coat. Inside are 8 patches where experimental mud-sand-plaster mixes are being tested.

Mud plasters often need almost yearly repair, but require little to no toxic additives. The vulnerability of these structures is not all liability, it is a part of the plan. As the homes rise from the land, so they return, taking and leaving as little as possible. Low impact homes blend in and reflect the land around them. Here, they may mirror wild flowers and grasses in abundance, Queen Ann's Lace and wild parsnip, hawks which circle overhead, brambles, nearby woodlands and a seasonal creek.

Dry in the summers, one can walk the creek's bed if able to negotiate the climb up and under fallen trees. These wooded areas, reserved as wildlife habitats and corridors, are well-used as mud marked with coyote and dear tracks testifies. This land is truly wild and will be preserved and enhanced as such under the Croplands Restoration Project (CRP). Under this program, DR has begun planting several thousand trees and native grasses. As the human environment grows and sculpts to envelope more rabbits more comfortably, the rabbits will assist nature in the restoration of the surrounding environment so it may better support the life which sustains, amuses, and complements us.