Back on the 22nd of April, Rebecca and I had what I refer to as our Earth Day Revelation.

It was the moment we decided it'd be both important and possible for us to simplify our lives and go from owning a lawn to owning some land.

Luckily we had the option to purchase some family land in Wythe County, Virginia.

A few weeks back, while at the beach, Rebecca handed me Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.  It'd recently been released in softback, and I'm cheap.  I also had not realized that Barnes & Noble filed it under "Cookbooks" when I went looking for it months ago. 

Cookbooks?  Really?

So, I started reading it.  And I see she's moved to a farm in southern Appalachia.  Wow, that's close to us here in Asheville, I have to imagine.  Then I notice her husband teaches at Emory & Henry, which I've passed scores of times on the way to Wytheville.

Then, she mentions being able to see Big Walker Mountain. 

Holy crap.  That's just down the road, with the tunnel that has the horrible construction going on, backing up traffic for miles.  On a clear day, we can probably see Big Walker Mountain from our plot.

Suddenly, this book-I-should-read-because-I-like-Pollan has become more than just another item in the cannon of self-sufficiency and locavoraciousness.

Instead, it's a fount of absolute local knowledge that will be useful to me. It's not just a story of someone, somewhere.  It's the story of a future neighbor in  the next county over.

Spending time in the area (just drove back this evening, in fact), I'd noticed that there's very few row crops, but craploads of raised-until-slaughter grass-fed cows.

The row crops that are visible (such as the corn surrounding my in-law's house) tend to be purely animal food, silage for the winter months.  Alfalfa, hay, human-inedible corn.

Sure, the neighbor kid raises chickens and sells the eggs at the hair salons in town, and the kindly old man up the cove produces honey from his handful of beehives.

But in general, I hadn't seen much other "farming" per se.

According to Kingsolver, though, there's plenty of actual micro-farming to be had in the hilly region on southwestern Virginia.  It's not all just tasty beef.

In fact, there's a wine festival annually because of the grape crops, and I've personally toured an apple orchard and a pick-your-own pumpkin (complete with high-pressure pumpkin cannon).

Sure, it's not zone 9 or something with more sun than sense, with multiple growing seasons.  But self-sustenance is not unheard-of along the New River Valley. 

Babs herself has documented the possibility.

I also verified that lightning bugs will indeed answer a flash of your car headlights.  It's freaky.