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iii: Our Man In the Field
David Hughes meets Dee Atkinson You seek ‘The Good Life’ but can you deal with trailing dirt across the carpets? Living off the land requires commitment, a firm constitution, a can-do attitude, and the kind of single-minded approach often described as pig-headed (though I rather prefer the expression ‘dogged’). The health and wellbeing benefits of the lifestyle are massive, but let us not kid ourselves— full time survivalist gardening is no small undertaking and success very much hinges on having both wellies planted firmly in the soil. Unreliable meteorology can be a fraught affair, and incorrect usage of a variety of animal poops may present all sorts of barriers to success. Nonetheless, the peoples of Britain have been dealing with these matters since the end of the last Ice Age. So, could you go back to the land? Obviously, mine is not the only mind that has lately wandered to fancies of self-sufficiency; cutting loose, foregoing the trappings of urban life, shifting to a croft in the countryside, escaping the tiresome supermarket shop. It sounds dramatic, possibly overly so, but if you zoom out and examine our current times through the lens of history you will see that shifts in food security often usher in societal shifts toward agrarianism. When the structures that provide our basic needs begin to fail, we have a tendency to take matters into our own hands, to provide for our immediate communities. The pockets of urbanized farmland still seen around Rome are the result of the citizenry taking food security into their own hands when the trousers of the Roman Empire’s trade mechanisms slowly began to fall down. But we don't have to reach that far into history to see ‘back to the land’ movements trending upward. The global depression of the 1930’s triggered the first iteration of the 20th century. In the United States, the unsustainable farming practices that led to the bitter ‘Dust Bowl’ era, described by the likes of John Steinbeck, forced families and communities to fend for themselves. This ushered in a period of modern homesteading and
community-building, and model societies offering fellowship of labour. These were especially popular amongst young people, who sought security and community spirit. Back to the land movements can also be civic affairs; in Britain such activity was encouraged by the government, both during and after the Second World War— you’ll be familiar with ‘Digging for Victory’. This kind of self-reliance proved vital to a population experiencing a rationing of goods that continued into the 1950’s. As the century rolled on, the lifestyle continued to attract followers and enjoyed its moment of getting a little freaky in the 1960’s, when it began to run in parallel with the counter-cultural revolution. In the Californian hills around San Jose, Joan Baez established a community she dubbed ‘Struggle Mountain’, which remains community-owned to this day. At its peak, the US census recorded around 10 million people actively involved in the wider movement. Closer to home, Donovan and his entourage formed a short-lived commune at Stein, on Skye's Waternish peninsula, soon realising that if you want to live off the land, you actually have to grow some food. I was delighted to discover that Bristo Square’s own high hiedyin of herbology— Dee Atkinson of Atkinson’s Herbalist, Clinic & Dispensary —grew up with more successful ‘back to the land’ parents. The movement obviously had its influence; her story is populated with a familiar cast of fascinating, strong-willed characters, with strong vision and an equally strong sense of community: John Seymour— author of The Complete Book of Self-Sufficiency -—my parents knew him and were enthused by his writing. They were ageing hippies, I suppose, and moved us to Wales from Ardnamurchan for the late 60’s and early 70’s, to a farmhouse stuck on the edge of a hillside down half a mile of track— no
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