I am not a morning person. Even when the dawns are above zero, I am not catching any of those proverbial worms. But each day, I rise early for two simple acts: brewing a warm pot of coffee and conjuring warm flames from the embers left in the fireplace. This is my daily routine that I have grown to love this winter.
Nik here, writing from the café at the Milkweed Mercantile at Dancing Rabbit, in front of said fire, coffee still filtering.
Coffee shops and lunch counters hold an indispensable place of connection, gossip, and a vast repository of information in small towns and neighborhoods where folks keep their phones in their pockets. They not only say the pleasantries but also genuinely ask about each other’s families and health. I recall the drive-thru coffee huts that are the antithesis of what a coffee shop should be, as not just a fueling of the sleepy brain, but for fueling community.
In communities, this sharing of knowledge is not just social, but practical, since there is a good chance someone you see that morning over a cup will be needed in your daily routine, or someone knows a guy who knows a lady who has a brother who has exactly what you need (for example, if you need a lawnmower fixed up and are in the market for animal skins, I now know where to head, thanks to morning coffee talk.) And, of course, when you find yourself sliding off an icy road on a shady curve in the road, you best be on good terms with your neighbor with the towline.
Like much of daily life at Dancing Rabbit, morning coffee is just a little bit different than most places. When a mix of locals, travelers, artists, farmers, and others come together, the topics of conversation are…varied, to put it mildly. Where else does a simple talk about construction techniques turn into a detailed tutorial on how to demolish an African termite mound to use for brick mortar in Uganda — and I know what you’re thinking, no, you can’t “knock one down with a truck.” That is strong mortar, I tell you what. That conversation easily segues to the various ways to make adobe bricks and what clay types may work the best in this climate.
Fishing stories are held in high regard, like most places of good repute in the Midwest. Here resides a strong contingency for the defense of ugly (but tasty) fish: catfish lovers, monkfish connoisseurs, and other throw-‘em-backs of scale-less slime and vestigial eyes. Lawyer fish (or burbot) were my personal favorite catch in Wisconsin, named “lawyers” not only for their penchant for bottom-feeding, but also because, legend has it, their heart resides in their rear end.
Anyone interested in U.S. history would be reeling with the amount of sheer knowledge and enthusiasm of the history buffs who seem to end up talking intricacies of 1930s aeronautical design before Sunday morning brunch. Most impressive is a brilliant young man, not yet college age, who goes head to head with the gray-beards about every detail of a battle 60 years before his time.
When Rabbits, visitors, and local folks all come together, there is a wonderful beehive effect that makes a normal routine become very engaging. Last week on Thursday Pizza Night at the Milkweed Mercantile, we were joined by many locals from the surrounding towns, who were on dates or decompressing after work, and we were also honored by the presence of the Mayor! Each week it’s been wonderful to see more and more new faces brave the elements and the back-roads… although pizza and revelry is quite a fine destination.
Speaking of holding space for neighbors, we at Dancing Rabbit and the Tri-Communities have been striving to keep our food more and more local. A series of food producers’ meetings have been in progress to evaluate and organize what and where we can obtain local vegetable and animal products, with the knowledge that they were raised just over the next hill. These meetings have been one more step to ensure not only a sustainable, but a varied and exciting diet for those who love knowing whose hands helped grow their food. That is a true beauty of community, not having to do everything for yourself, and being thankful when someone else makes it available.
That’s all for this week. The great thaw seems to be right over the next hill, but feel free to stop by for a cup of coffee (or tea) at 8 o’clock. There will be a good chance of very interesting conversation.
Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage is an intentional community and nonprofit outside Rutledge, in northeast Missouri, focused on demonstrating sustainable living possibilities. While we dream of spring, when tours will begin again, you can find out more about us by visiting our website, reading our blog, or emailing us.