Extreme inspiration: Changing your perspective

Sometimes doing small things feels big. When I see others doing things to the extreme, I realize that small things are more feasible and attainable.

This post isn’t to say that small things don’t make a big impact. It’s quite the opposite. I’m referring to the feeling of overwhelm that usually peaks in mid-to-late summer in gardener and homesteader circles. I find that peak carries over to fall as successional plants start to produce, late plants give their last push, the fall seedlings need coaching, not to mention the apples coming in and any animal care needs. (Speaking of apples: This is the first year we ate all the bulk apples fresh before I had a chance to preserve them. I stopped at an orchard a second time to get some more just for the dehydrator.)

The first story I’ll share is from a collection of books I found at a vintage shop.

When I think of extremes, I realize that it’s a relative term. What may be extreme to one person could be another person’s normal. The three inspiring stories I’m about to share remain extreme to me. The first story I’ll share with you started at a vintage shop. I can’t remember which one, but I found a three-book from the 1970s housed in a wooden container written by Janet Clark, Mary Alice Collins, and Gary Collins. The Naturalist series features editions dedicated to a nature walk, down to earth, and botanical art. Over the past year I’ve slowly read each book. They’re filled with endearing illustrations and inspiring quotes “written” (handwriting-type font) in the margins. I’m not wildly interested in preserving flowers and creating botanical art, but the edition focused on it revealed seemingly easy ways to make beautiful gifts. I hadn’t realized there were so many ways, other than drying, to preserve flowers. Sawdust, silica, talcum powder, sand, borax, sugar, and the list goes on.

The series includes three books housed in a wooden box.

One way of preserving flowers that the authors documented is the extreme example I want to share and it involves sand. The authors learned that the sand from the Great Salt Lake in Utah is renowned for its botanical preservation properties due to the extreme smoothness of the sand grains. The couple made the attempt. They brought home HUNDREDS of pounds of sand from the Great Salt Lake, washed it, and dried it. I felt comforted when they acknowledged the labor and described it as “agonizing.” If these folks went to such an effort just to dry some flowers, I feel motivated to get up early and stay up late to seed another tray of fall plants or preserve food to feed our family.

The sweet illustrations and marginal notes.

Another story that’s inspired me is a YouTube channel run by a couple in Alaska. We started watching their channel, Simple Living Alaska, when they moved from Oregon to Willow, Alaska several years ago. (You can watch the week-long drive and how they moved to Alaska on their channel.) We watched as they established their garden and built soil, added bees, set up a high tunnel, raised their chickens, preserved their food, set up a sawmill, and managed several interesting projects in their off-grid cabin. Recently they moved to a more remote part of Alaska. Not only are they moving their chickens and bees, livestock and garden fencing with them, but they were so attached to the great soil that they built in their gardens that they decided to take it with them too. It would have never occurred to me to take the soil, especially a relatively long distance since they’ve shared their new place is about a 5- or 6-hour drive away. Now when I’m hauling wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of compost a few hundred feet to different garden spaces I’ll know I don’t have it so bad. (And maybe one day I’ll take it with me!)

The last story I’ll share is another YouTube channel I follow, Roots and Refuge Farm. They were originally based in Arkansas and I discovered the channel right around the time I started my first garden about five years ago. Jess Sowards had been expanding her garden and documenting many varieties of tomatoes at the time, which helped me in planning my first garden. Two years ago, they relocated their entire farm including chickens, goats, alpaca, and other critters to South Carolina in the middle of the summer. Folks who’ve experienced summers in the South know they’re brutal, and heat and livestock don’t mix well. To avoid the heat, their family moved all the livestock on a 12-hour overnight drive. In advance of the drive her husband had spent a few months on their new property setting up fencing and structures for the animals. I don’t know if it’s because I’m morning person and can’t stay up late that this feels so extreme to me, but the effort and dedication inspire me. I also thought about it this past August when my husband and I got up early and drove an hour south to pick up our first pigs so that they wouldn’t need to sit in the truck bed during the heat of the day on one of the hottest weekends of the year. I had spent the entire weekend before this setting up the pigs’ first paddocks and fencing. Getting through a single sweaty weekend on my own felt a lot easier in comparison to the extreme efforts I saw Roots and Refuge manage for their livestock.

What’s inspiring you lately?