I’m about to swing wildly off-topic here. Blame it on my addiction to old newspapers and magazines. I cruise through them for cool images for collage, and — the next thing I know — I’m suddenly learning about handmade lace, pea soup recipes, or raising chickens.
When I was a kid, I was convinced I’d grow up, buy a farm, have six wonderful children, and live a very domestic life.
That’s not quite the way things worked out.
However, I find myself saving newspaper clippings. Lately, they’ve been about gardening and self-sufficient living. We’re going to need a house for this, of course. The hens wouldn’t be happy in my apartment, and the balcony is a little small for birds too large for a birdcage.
Still, I read the article at right, and it makes sense to me. We’re throwing food down the disposal (or into the trash or the compost heap) that could feed hens that would produce eggs… nice healthy eggs that could be a major part of our daily diet.
In my opinion, there’s a lot of logic missing in daily life. What began as convenience in the early 1950s (or earlier) has wandered down a weird path. Food my grandmother grew in her backyard, and tasted fresh and delicious, is now shipped to us over thousands of miles. It costs a ridiculous amount to buy, it’s not as fresh or delicious, and it comes packaged in plastic that contributes to the landfill, big time.
Worse, the cost of shipping food cross-country is climbing due to soaring gas prices, and those plastic containers — which originate as petroleum products — are going to be more expensive, too.
Yes, eat your veggies, but — more importantly — grow your own veggies.
And, as I re-read this 1917 newspaper clipping, maybe hens are worth considering.