A time to plant, a time to reap…

[prolixfootle]

morganaus has asked that I write about the… lifestyle… of the Rural Wastelands, such as it is.

The Wastelands are probably a bit different from what you imagine. Stars don’t twinkle in the firmament on a clear summer night – the omnipresent security lights wash them out. And you probably won’t see as many farm animals as you expect either – farming for a living is on it’s way out.

Although the area is quite rural, it’s not really part of the Bucolic Farming Environs (BFE for short) – at least not anymore. It was, not so long ago, but it’s definitely not now. But more on that in a bit.

Life in the Rural Wastelands is slow, and still largely season- and weather-based, even though farming is a fast-fading occupation. Schools still let out for three months in the summer, and don’t go back into session until after all of the county fairs are done. 4-H groups still flourish – although pets have supplanted actual farm animals in most cases. Future Farmers of America is a thing of the past, replaced by IT classes. Hobby farms still exist and roadside stands selling fresh produce still appear during the warm months – although they too are becoming scarcer with each passing year. The hot new trend seems to be corn mazes and hayrides in the fall.

Around Footle Farm, most things still depend on the weather. ‘Make hay while the sun shines’ is a well known adage, but most people don’t realize that you also have to till when the sun shines (or your plow will become mired in mud), sow when the sun shines (or your seed will rot in the ground), reap when the sun shines (or your harvest will mold in storage) and do any number of other things while the sun shines. You also have to time everything so that your new seedlings won’t die of frost burn, but will be in the barn before the first snow flies, and will have the proper moisture content for longevity in storage without the fear of spontaneous combustion.

To a lesser degree, the same holds true for the animals. In a set up like ours, you don’t want calves born in cold weather (they’re less likely to survive) but they also have to be weaned before snowfall so that they can begin the process of becoming dinner for the following August.

Some things – like sickness and birthing distress – have to be handled no matter what the weather. I have oh so fond memories of helping with a breach in a thunderstorm and trying to nurse half-frozen calves back to health in February. Other things, like tagging, immunizations and castration are a little more forgiving, but still need to be done as soon as possible as they become more difficult as time goes by. But that’s only if you’re farming…

The reason that I call the area surrounding my home the Rural Wastelands is because it seems (to me, at least), to have lost its purpose. When I was young (lo those many years ago), farming was a big part of this community. There were at least six working farms within walking distance of my house. Now there are two, including Footle Farm. Simply put, small-time farmers can’t make it anymore. Industrial farming has driven them under. The American desire for low-cost regardless of quality – the Wal-Mart mentality – has allowed it to happen. But that’s a rant for another time.

Luckily, the majority of the farms are still intact. That’s because we don’t have water or sewer lines, but it’s just a matter of time until some developer pumps those in, then the Developments pop up overnight like squat, toxic toadstools. They’re already festering uncontested in nearby communities, fields of carbon copy McMansions where corn and oats used to thrive.

So, with the loss of agriculture, the Wastelands have no real purpose other than a haven for Rednecks and Neo-Yuppies. The community has one major employer – a semi-trailer manufacturing facility. Everyone else, including yours truly, commutes to jobs outside the community.

As for the lifestyle itself… I can’t fathom why someone used to the amenities of a larger community would want to make a home in the area. To get anywhere – and I do mean anywhere – you have to drive. Fifteen to twenty minutes to the nearest grocery store. Ditto for video rentals. Half an hour to other retail outlets. As I said, we still have wells for water and septic tanks for sewage, and we also have cable – the trailer parks have to have their Nascar – but no pizza delivery. Actually no food deliveries of any kind. Fine dining consists of a pizza joint and a few ‘bar and grill’s. If you’re willing to go a bit further, the next town over (built up around the interstate) has a bit more, including the typical fast food joints and a lone Chinese restaurant.

The Wastelands also has a local post office – although it’s only for a small area and then only for post office boxes. The majority of the rural delivery comes through a town in the next county. We have a convenience store where – seriously – the habitués of the trailer parks (there are three in the area) do the bulk of their grocery shopping. With food stamps. We have a single gas station, an auto parts store, a furniture store and two – count ‘em, TWO! – automobile dealerships. The worlds best ice cream stand is also nearby.

Last time I checked (and it’s been a while), the main pastime was watching Nascar at one of the local ‘bar and grill’s. Or wrestling. Or football, in a pinch. There used to be a ballroom dancing establishment just up the road, but it’s now a – any guesses? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? – ‘bar and grill’. And we still have a local swimming hole/camping facility.

The one big claim to fame that the Wastelands has is the county fairgrounds – home to various animals shows, flea markets and swap meets throughout the year. And, of course, for one week in August, the county fair.

The social climate is very conservative here in the Rural Wastelands. Although I’ve not done any research, I’d guess that the population is aging rather more rapidly than other areas. The older generation stays while the younger ones escape at the first opportunity. In fact, to the best of my knowledge I’m the only one of my high school clique still living in the area. That makes for a staunch resistance to change – something with both good and bad points.

What else can I say? We don’t have many of the problems of more populous areas; crime is relatively low (although I imagine there’s quite a few Redneck domestics), but there’s enough to hype up the paranoia quotient, especially in the older residents. Traffic is on the rise as people commute from places even farther flung than the Rural Wastelands. Perfectly manicured lawns stand out as abnormal, shaggy dogs blend in. Feral cats are only semi-wild, and are usually welcomed for their pest control abilities. You can still see wild flowers in the wild, and the wild life isn’t quite cramped enough to try and forage in your back yard.

So, is it a paradise or a piss hole? You can make your own decision. Myself, I believe, like most everything, it’s a bit of both.