Let Them Eat Intimacy Cake

In a recent magazine review of Uncultivated the reviewer latched onto a line I wrote in the seventh chapter, a chapter about running a small cider business. The line, “There is nothing worse than a sellout,” sounds as though I'm being curmudgeony when in actually the very next paragraph was about how homestead farmers need to make money too. The difference, however, should exempt limited small-scale farmers from suffering the same "sellout" stigma that greedy opportunists deserve. That’s because we are selling our products second, not first. The primary goal is to develop intimate relationships (like to our land, customers, and trees, for instance) but deep relationships thrive on the economy of limitations. The person with thousands of “Facebook friends”, for instance, is likely not devoting much time to meaningful friendships, and in the end it's Quantity or Quality. You can’t have your cake and eat it too.

But I’m afraid this view of business is increasingly becoming antiquated, like the extinction of aboriginal languages and the lifestyles of tribal people in the rain forest. Large-scale farming and monoculture are taking over and all you need to do is study live satellite photography to see the alarming speed of “limitless growth” and how it’s absorbing every last inch of undeveloped space (oh, the sad, sad irony.) 

In a parallel universe, our “modern society” works against us too. It’s become increasingly incomprehensible that a person just does the things they love to do, or because they feel it’s the right thing to do. I recently stumbled across this blog (linked here) written 14 years ago, about the growing trend in the Millennial Era of “monetizing” that which was once sacred (art, personal relationships, or simply fun leisure activities.) Nowadays, some people look at everything as an opportunity of converting it into a money-making exploit. I like how the Seth’s Blog post ends: –maybe you will, one day, figure out how to achieve the much-heralded monetization. But if that’s your primary goal, the compromises you make along the way will likely cause your efforts to backfire. (But you got read the full article to learn how that is.)

In all, I like the reviewer’s take on my book, and I will accept sounding like a curmudgeon even if the magazine overemphasized this voice. A lot of fellow cider makers, apple farmers, and especially “trade groups” have faulted me for being too critical (despite the irony) and say that I should be more supportive. Well, that’s where I know they are wrong! for it’s me that is the supportive one. If I can’t accept a compromised version of cider or personal cider farming then I am the one being an advocate for the future, not them. They are selling out cultures, ideals, and beauty all for the profit afforded by the actual mechanics of today’s efficient industry. They call it “being realistic.” But this is a culture we are involved with as cider-makers and apple farmers, we are not making plastic widgets to be sold as cheaply as possible. It's about art, agriculture, beauty, and personal relationships (real reasons for living!) And so for those who call me a curmudgeon let me remind you of something that perhaps you don’t realize: NOBODY loves art more than the art critic.  

Not Dead Yet

I am by default a depressed and jaded person.

Even without following the news (which I don’t, and therefore I’m not up to date on the latest climate change news) I still bare witness to the homogenization, monetization, or flat-out death of cultures that I love. From species extinctions, to the exploitation of human heritages, even to the commoditization of personal relationships (ahem, social media) it seems like everything in this world has become contorted and fast-tracked for this economy. And those things I love must also fit within that business model of continuous growth and large-scale efficiency lest they too die by the roadside.  

Cider drives on this road too now. You might even say it’s in the left lane. As the industry looks to homogenize itself in every aspect -from its’ language (which is used to sum-up the vast worlds each product represents), to the cloning of a select few “cider varieties” which will make it easier to farm and market apples on a mass-scale -I see it happening in my little corner of the world too. And I get depressed and jaded.

But every few years in May something miraculous happens. Thousands and thousands of wild apples seem to emerge out of the forest waving victory flags (a head full of blossoms) as if to yell to us as we drive by, “Hey! We’re not dead yet!”

These are trees, mind you, that even I -a person obsessed with wild apple trees going on a quarter century -don’t usually notice either. Where the hell did they come from? As magical as the aurora borealis is, this brief and rare occurrence restores my faith in this world. They remind me that that things can prosper in the shadows. Apples, cider, businesses and human cultures can still grow organically.

A Moment's Thought

In recent years I took to writing. HEAVILY.
   With numerous magazine pieces and a 300-page book coming out this Spring it's gotten to the point where I'd call myself a writer just as much as a cider maker. Fine, I can accept that. But do note that writing (and for that matter, cider making too) are merely just ways for me to stay involved with apple growing. Being with apples, for whatever reason, is as important to me as my relationships with people. The trees offer me something people can't (and vica versa, of course.)

   I started writing this blog ten years ago but posts have dropped off in recent years as I got into "serious" writing. Now I see it's been almost a year since my last entry. This delay isn't because I haven't wanted to write brief "diary posts" but it's because I've applied my OCD/ addictive personality to longer-developed, heavily edited, writings. I'm obsessed with a need to "complete" my thoughts, which often means tying my concepts to bigger and more diverse topics. But there is something majestic about simple statements and I need to remember that the art of writing should incorporate these unloaded , quick comments too. What a simple concept that is!

   So to that end, let me get on with blurting that after a year of heavy "professional" writing I have landed in a post-book depression. It feels like I've lost my purpose. I know that something will eventually lift me out of this but in the meantime I'm eternally grateful that apple trees are out there waiting for me. I love pruning apple trees in the winter like nothing else. And I know not one orchardist who does not share this passion above all other apple related-tasks! Pity the cider maker who does not personally tend the trees! And for me, right now, this winter pruning has taken on a Voltaire-like importance. Just shut-up and stop thinking: Go out and spend quality time with them. Its what cider (and my stupid ramblings) are all about. It's what they've ALWAYS been about.