Hi. I’m Taylor. I’m 26 27 years old.
I grew up in Alabama. Now I live in Massachusetts. I’ve been here since September 2007 and I came all because of a boy named Pete (naturally) (the boy part, not the Pete part). (EDIT: The boy is no longer! Onward to the gardening!) I’m still getting used to it. (Did you know that this stuff falls from the sky here? It’s white and fluffy and cold. I’m still confused by it. Also there is ice. ON THE ROAD. WHERE I AM SUPPOSED TO DRIVE MY CAR. Who’s idea was all this? I think we need to have a little discussion…) Where I come from, tomatoes are ripe in early June and August is the month of scorched-earth.
The title of this blog is a bit of a joke. I am, truly, trying to survive Massachusetts. It’s extraordinarily different from what I’m used to. And I don’t just mean the weather (though that is a very, very large part of it). But this isn’t really about me surviving, it’s about me surviving on what this state can give me. Hence surviving “on.”
I desperately want to grow my own food, all of it, but I’m only a weensy bit successful at it. And I figure, if I can’t grow my own, I’m damn sure going to get whatever I can from local farms. I believe in good, local, fresh food. I believe in organic, but if I have to choose from an organic watermelon grown 3,000 miles away in Mexico and a watermelon grown with pesticides by the farmer who lives 3 miles from me, I’m going to pick the local.
I believe in pasture-raised meat. I believe that cows should be eating grass and chickens should be eating bugs and that all animals should have grass beneath their feet for the majority of their lives. I want to see the faces of the animals that I eat and I want to know that they weren’t so sick that they had to be shoveled into a processing plant. I want the person that raised them to have cared for them.
I don’t believe in antibiotics being crammed into our food. I am alarmed by tomatoes in January and Brussels Sprouts in July and oranges all-year-round. I believe that the best watermelon in the world must be eaten in August. I think that once you have that perfect peach, every other mealy, rock-hard fruit will not be worth it. I live for the perfection of eating something that is growing right when it should and eaten alive right off the vine (or stalk or branch).
And y’all, I’m new at this- a recent convert, if you will. So please bear with me. I’m learning as I go.
Stay tuned, ok…
Me in October of 2007. The cast is an embarrassing story.