Howdy, readers! Kenny here, with meandering thoughts on the beauty of this collective dream, from the land to its houses, its projects, and its processes.
People really like Dancing Rabbit. This is understandable, especially in this beautiful season. Just over one year ago, I stepped out of the van that my family and I had been ferried to DR with from our hotel after a long trip from Alaska. I laid eyes on this place for the first time during the halcyon days of summer, 2024, and never left.
The land is gorgeous. From densely wooded areas where goodly hedge apples and succulent mushrooms grow in relative abundance in sun-speckled shade, to expansive prairies that clatter and swish with tall golden grass, and a rotating chorus of insects complete the soundscape. Even through the height of ragweed season, the allergy afflicted amongst us happily pop an antihistamine of choice and spend the whole day whistling (and sniffling) while we work.
There are new and continuing natural building projects around the village. The newest cooperative kitchen space (for one of the oldest still-operating co-ops on farm), the Critter Kitchen, finally has its new stove and kitchen space fully functional. The Hub is continuing to achieve beautiful progress on its many additions with the help of its currently hosted work exchangers (those who provide labor in exchange for food and housing, aka “wexers”), and you can read about it all and more at The Hub’s Substack! There are a number of wexing opportunities from the spring through the fall.
Village events are also a huge draw, not only for visitors and personally hosted guests, but for members as well. Currently, preparation for DR’s most dulcet event, Singing Rabbit, is underway. Planning meetings and dozens of lengthy emails have materialized into the central Milkweed Park becoming adorned with handmade ornamentation and tables ready for the 80-guest strong, long-weekend full of song circles, dances, storytelling, and poetry, with three farm-made, Rabbit-catered meals a day. That guest number includes the dozens of “tri-com” participants (those who live in DR and it’s adjacent intentional communities right down the road at Sandhill and Red Earth farms).
DR houses are captivating. In the evenings, especially when the moon is full, every developed lane at DR has its own distinct skyline, thanks to nearly three decades of dedicated artistically and ecologically led construction. Cobbed walls, hardwood siding, metal roofs, exposed timbers, milk-painted facades, greenhouses, bay windows, gardens with handmade fencing, and, of course, screened porches, all make their unique impression on the village’s winding residential pathways.
And yet, with all the beautiful private dwellings around the village, there are still a number of permanent Rabbits who are without permanent homes. This is certainly understandable from the standpoint of this village being an ongoing building project that grows with its population, with an appreciable lead time as folks get established, attend to the months-long bureaucratic process of becoming a member of the land trust, scouting a location, and building a home; however it can leave some out in the cold (or more appropriately, wintering elsewhere).
Missouri winters can be harsh, dumping sometimes up to a half foot of snow on already frozen ground. Tents can’t withstand the extremes, and rental space is limited, and outside of the three or so bunk-house style accommodations already on farm, space can fill quickly.
I have heard that housing is in a constant state of ebb and flow around here, sometimes a surplus, sometimes a dearth, and always a relevant topic. Currently, and for the whole of my life at DR, it has been running at a shortage. Consistent readers may remember that I was “fortunate” enough to be diagnosed unexpectedly with COVID upon my arrival, and quarantined at an unoccupied building at the front of the village (one of the oldest buildings at DR, a quaint two-room cottage with electricity and nothing else). I staked my claim, began renting, and never looked back, making it work for me and the Goslings (my three sweet kiddos). There are a handful of other houses in various states of available-to-rent status, but that number often hovers around three, all currently occupied.
Some Rabbits comfortably take up a permanent stay at Skyhouse, a seven-bedroom goliath of a building with a fully equipped kitchen, running water, shower, and in-house humey setup. Spots for this winter season are currently floating around full, dependent on current Skyhouse resident dispositions through the season.
While there are a number of impressive personal home builds that are underway and set for completion some time within the next year or so, where renters will become owners and housing options will shift again, available housing is not set to increase with the number of interested and highly motivated Rabbits-to-be. What’s needed is a place or system to catch those who are interested in landing here and growing roots, and are willing to “rough it” within the confines of community agreements (e.g., no tent camping through winter) without having to find existent (and increasingly nonexistent) rental housing options, all while adding to the natural building knowledge of the community.
Enter the current efforts of the Queer Mutual Aid Collective, a growing affinity group within DR that was recently entrusted with the improvements of Moon Lodge, a communally owned building that had never been completed, and had unfortunately fallen into some disrepair. A menagerie of dedicated individuals across the queer spectrum of self-identity have begun the process of restoring the building. The busy period of the collective’s first wexing season resulted in a number of improvements to the building, and a full two-story wall demolition and reconstruction is slated for the spring of 2026. It has a roof, stove, and lots of space for tools, materials, a functioning kitchen, a couch, desks and even a few mattresses.
This represents a tremendous transfer of trust initiated by the all-volunteer committee which oversees management of the DR Land Trust. Moon Lodge is under ownership of the land trust, and therefore all its members. This work-to-own agreement was a process that required village-wide consent as initiated by literal decades of consensus decisions contained in the DR Decision Index, and through the Land Trust committee’s (also consensed-upon) responsibilities. Dancing Rabbit’s process is a complex one that I am immensely grateful for, and to the individuals that make up its dozen or more committees, village council, and board of directors both past and present, and over a hundred Rabbits, current and former.
I simply cannot imagine coming here and wanting to leave again. Through the meetings, the heat, the bugs, the bitter winters, and yes, the limited housing options, people are continuously finding ways to make it work all the way out here in rural Missouri, for the Rabbit’s collective dream of a better way.
Kenny Dane is a regular contributor to this newsletter and serves on several village committees.