Walk through any farm that's been around for awhile and you'll find a bone yard - a limbo for old parts and materials that no longer serve in their old capacity. My farm is in it's infancy, but already a collection of used materials has found a nest in the tall grass and under the covered patio - plastic drums, pvc pipe, metal fence posts from a wrought iron fence, new welded wire fencing, old steel mesh fencing, a grab bag of lumber...
I must confess that I've always been one of those people that find it difficult to throw away the unused parts that accompany new purchases; especially screws and nuts and bolts. I have an assortment of bits and pieces in my tool box of which I have no hint of their originally intent. But lest you think I'm just another pack rat who hoards to compensate for some psychological deficit, let me give two examples of seemingly defunct materials finding glorious reincarnation to usefulness.
Several weeks ago the tailgate on my pickup refused to open. The rod that attaches to the right latch had become disconnected from the handle due to the apparent total disintegration of some plastic part. With used nut and bolt, some washers and some of those mysterious metal parts whose original function is unknown, I was able to fabricate my own part that put the tailgate in working order again. In another instance, after already chasing three previous swarms from my own hives, when the fourth swarm appeared I had no top or bottom boards for another hive. From scraps of lumber that I had saved, I was able to fashion functional versions of both.
I am not one of those people who can fix or construct anything. I wish I was. I'm a lousy carpenter but take the effort to assemble my hives instead of buying them assembled. I haven't attempted any auto engine maintenance and repair since the days of my VW buses(pre-electronics and computers to control everything) though I plan on learning to maintain my motorcycle. Basic plumbing isn't a problem and I'm unafraid to tackle bigger projects. Some months back I started darning my socks instead of throwing them out when they get holes in the heals. I'm trying to expand my maintenance and repair skill sets.
The point isn't just about saving money, it's about consciously connecting to the world around us. Somehow people get that when you're talking about nature but tend to glaze over when the discussion is about our man made world. We have both subjugated ourselves to the all encompassing power of technology and have made every effort to detach from it at the same time. Manufactures of consumer goods are more than happy to support such detachment because there is more money to be made selling you something new, than having you repair something old. Your computer's printer, coffee pot, blender, food processor...(fill in any small appliance here)... not working? Repair it? Get real. You buy a new one. If it isn't the cost of replacement being cheaper than repair, usually due to the computer chip, it's the intentional design intended to make it all but impossible to work on by yourself - or anyone else for that matter. Think I'm exaggerating? Look up "small appliance repair" in your phonebook. The guy with the little fix-it shop who used to repair your mother's blender has gone the way of the eight track tape and the dodo bird.
Don't misunderstand me, I'm not against new things. When my coffee pot dies, I'm the first one in line at the store to replace it. My concern is that the detachment that's required of the "just replace it" philosophy is a thief, stealing not only our awareness of our everyday world, but also it's wonderment and joy as well. Remember your childhood for a moment. For many of us a bike was among our earliest and most valued possessions. Think of the care you gave it - washing and accessorizing, oiling the chain - and the value you placed on it. If it was lost or demolished, there probably weren't the resources to readily replace it. Contrast that pride of ownership to that of the kids who had everything and how they interacted with their belongings. I'm afraid we've become more like spoiled children, detached and unappreciative of the value of the things we choose to place in our life.
Beyond those few new higher priced items, the focus is on recycling what I already have or what I can find used(especially for free). I have to be conscious of my surroundings and attentive to using the resources around me more efficiently. Plastic barrels that once held corn syrup or soap become part of the water storage and irrigation system. Wrought iron fencing becomes trellises for peas and bean plants. Scraps of lumber and fencing become a garden gate and a chicken coup.
The belief underlying the bone yard is that old discarded items may once again be reborn with a new purpose. I know that's true of things and maybe it can be true for people.
Honey Almond Biscotti
Servings:36 Prep Time: 25 minutes
Ingredients:
1/2 cup unsalted butter softened
3/4 cup honey
2 large eggs
1 tsp. vanilla extract
3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tsp. anise seeds
2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1/4 cup dried cranberries
3/4 cup dried slivered almonds
Preheat oven to 350 F.
Using electric mixer beat butter until light; gradually add honey, eggs, and vanilla, beating until smooth. In a small bowl, combine flour, anise seeds, cinnamon, baking powder, salt and baking soda; gradually add to honey mixture, mixing well. Stir in cranberries and almonds.
Shape dough into two 10x3x1 inch logs on greased baking sheet. Bake for 20 minutes or until light golden brown. Remove from oven to wire rack, and cool 5 minutes. Reduce oven to 300 F. Transfer logs to cutting board. Cut each log into 1/2 inch slices; arrange pieces on baking sheet. Bake 20 minutes or until crisp. Cool on wire racks.
- Recipe from Honeybee: Lessons from an Accidental Beekeeper by C. Marina Marchese.
