Showing posts with label scythe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label scythe. Show all posts

Thursday, October 14, 2010

The death of knowledge

Here's a trivia question for you: What is a snath?

My faithful reader Bill can probably answer this, since he has taken the time to educate himself in the Old Ways.  I know what a snath is because we bought a device that included a snath back in the late 90's.  But for the vast, vast majority of people in the western world, a snath means nothing.

But a snath is a critical part of what used to be an essential piece of equipment.  It used to be that people could discuss snaths with great knowledge.  They recognized how a snath had to confirm to a user's size, they knew how it had to have certain weight and materials properties, and they knew the merits of ash versus hickory snaths.

Okay, okay... I'll stop teasing and answer the question.  A snath is the wood handle portion of a scythe.

And a scythe, of course, is a long hand-held blade that cuts down things like grasses, grains, or other farm crops.


Needless to say, scythes were used extensively on farms all over the world until the advent of tractors and harvesters and other modern equipment.  Now we've reached the point where few people know how to properly use (much less sharpen) a scythe.

The point of this introduction is to illustrate how far our nation has fallen from the days in which people were self-sufficient, or at least healthily dependent on each other in the local sense.

For 5000 years of civilization, mankind has honed hundreds of survival skills.  How to build a home from raw materials.  How to make a fire without matches.  How to hunt animals with only the most primitive of tools.  How to make those primitive tools.  How to raise crops, harvest them, and preserve them through the upcoming year.  The list of skills we've forgotten is endless.

And here's what bugs me: We've forgotten 5000 years' worth of skills in less than three generations.

Three generations ago, many of our forebears still lived on farms without electricity.  They knew how to get through a year without depending on (too many) external sources for their everyday needs.  If you ever read "Farmer Boy" by Laura Ingalls Wilder, you'll understand how a typical family got through a year and purchased very, very few "boughten" things.  They cut their own firewood, provided their own ice (throughout the year), wove their own cloth, butchered their own animals, harvested their own fields and gardens... the list goes on and on.

Can any of us do that any more?

If we consider the possibility of an EMP weapon taking out the power grid in this nation, it's scary to think of how many people - nearly all of us - would be left utterly helpless.  We would be helpless because we've gone soft.  We've allowed our lives to get too comfortable and too dependent on outside sources - notably electricity - so we no longer have to obtain life's necessities through our own personal efforts.  We would be hungry, thirsty, in the dark, and unable to use the toilet without electricity.

And we - meaning, the Lewis family - would be nearly as helpless as the next person despite the fact that we live where we live.  We, too, have gone soft.  We, too, depend far too much on outside sources for our basic necessities.

If you think nothing earth-shattering could ever interrupt our comfortable lives, think again.  If you study history, you'll see that wrenching change has happened over and over and over.  Endless great civilizations have been brought to their knees through endless numbers of disruptions - famines, invasions, natural disasters, diseases...  Yet we still have the arrogance to think it can't happen again.  Indeed, as my husband pointed out, the greatest conceit of mankind is, “It can’t happen to me.”

That's why the notion of recapturing some of the more "primitive" skills of our forebears holds such an appeal for me.  That's why I'm determined to can food, make cheese, grow wheat, raise meat, etc.  It's why we find ourselves driven to make our little homestead as self-sufficient as possible.

But it's an uphill battle.  Oh Lord, it's a struggle all the way.  The biggest thing we struggle against is our ignorance.  Everything we learn, we have to learn from scratch because there are so few people around to teach us.  We have to re-learn things that civilization has known for 5000 years, but has lost in 100.  It's a struggle full of heartbreak, frustration, mistakes, and an occasional brilliant success.

One thing we cannot forget is that our ancestors over the past 5000 years had one excellent motivator to make their struggles succeed: Death.  If their crops failed, they died.  If their weapons failed, they died.  If their medical knowledge was insufficient, they died.  Those that didn't die might be left maimed and utterly dependent on others.  Life was short, brutal, and harsh.

I do not want to return to those conditions.  But circumstances beyond our control may not give us any option.

Monday, June 21, 2010

Okay, I get it - no garden this year

Summer! O glorious first day of summer!

Yeah right.

I have finally accepted the inevitable: I will not be having a successful garden this year.

That's because on this, the first official day of summer, the temperature remains chilly...


It's pouring rain and windy out...


And I have the woodstove fire going.



This has been the weather pattern all spring. We'll be teased with a couple of glorious days of sunshine...


And then it's back to the nasty cold rainy windy weather.

(Yes, this is our lawnmower. Push mowers only work when the grass is dry. The grass hasn't been dry in a long time. At this point our only option to mow is a scythe and/or weedwacker.)

Nothing - and I mean nothing - is growing in the garden. (It's a little too soon to know for sure about the potatoes, even though I planted them almost a month ago. Potatoes like cooler temps and they take a long time to grow, so I may yet have luck with them.)

And I found ONE pea plant a few days ago, about an inch high. ONE. I planted the peas and beans on May 28 and not a single thing (except this one pea) has sprouted.

This is doubly frustrating because we have some folks visiting in 2 1/2 weeks that I really wanted to impress with a nice garden - you know what I mean? But it's not to be.

So I have to mentally stop fighting what can't be helped. The failure of the garden is not my fault. Unlike last year when I planted things too late, this year I planted in a timely fashion. It's just been a bad spring.

We're not alone. To hear folks talk, no one is having any success. How can they? The soil is still as cold as in March.

Trouble is, we were hoping to save a lot of our plants for seed this year. So this means we need to move toward Plan B.

Right now I have five precious heirloom tomatoes in the greenhouse - where they're staying (I'll re-pot as necessary) - and these will not be eaten but instead will all be saved for seed.


I also have tiny broccoli plants coming up. Broccoli has a fairly short growing season, so if the weather moderates we may yet have broccoli heads. Broccoli is one of the easiest plants to harvest for seeds, so I anticipate success with this.


I also have four types of herbs sown and barely sprouting: oregano, basil, sage, and thyme. I'll probably pot these and keep them in the greenhouse. I've never saved herbs for seed, so this will be an experiment for me.


All of the dry beans I planted (navy, pinto) apparently can just be planted with store-bought dried beans, so I already have a good supply of those. I have pumpkin seeds left over from last year, as well as enough seed corn saved to plant another year.


But the green beans, cantaloupe, watermelon, and peas will have to be re-ordered from the seed company we use. In fact, we're going to order triple the amounts we would normally need.

The (assumed) failure of the garden is a good, if harsh, lesson. As my dad pointed out, right now a garden's failure is merely an inconvenience. But in times past, a garden's failure could be catastrophic. Our dearest hope is that a failed garden won't be catastrophic in the future as well.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Scything grass

The tractor is still down. This means we can't hook up the mower and mow down any weed-infested spots, like our side yard (where the weeds are topping out at shoulder height in some places). So today Don sharpened the scythe and got to work.