Text of email sent to Doug Fine today, and my reflection on "Farewell, My Subaru":

Hey Doug -

I just read Farewell, My Subaru this morning and wanted to thank you for the laugh. It was a great little book. SO much of your experience mirrors mine - even having Kevin Forrest convert your truck, about the same time he did mine, too, in spring 2007.

BUt it made me feel sad, too, in a big way. I, too, came out here from Long Island, 18 years ago Aug 2, and have lived the natural life gardening, raising livestock, bartering, etc. Except I did not have the luxury of living that way by choice - more because being a poor northern New Mexican (I came home when I came here) necessitates scrimping, recycling, and eating out of the garden. I did really well with my little farm and certified organic nursery - I was the largest producer of certified organic culinary and medicinal here in the southwest up until three years ago. See, I've had Lyme Disease since I was about 17 and, being extremely poor and a single mom, never had the benefit of health insurance. So I built the businesses, built my life, bought my farm, and worked my ass off (also was in school getting my undergrad degree) until the Lyme overtook me. It was a great life and I loved it.

Growing up on the rural north fork of LI, I always had gardens. My grandfather was a bayman in the Peconic Bay (and roofer for Levittown) until high property taxes on the Island forced them upstate about 1979. I spent summers and holidays there gardening, collecting medicinal herbs from the woods, extracting honey from the hives, canning, freezing, splitting wood for heat, sampling homemade wine, kneading bread dough, etc. I've known how to raise food and small livestock all my life and loved my little farm here in Taos. We had chickens, guineas, milking does, kids on occasion, horses, dogs, cats, and wildlife like great blue herons (stopping for a rest in the pond on the way to Heron Lake, I suppose), muskrat, leaopard bullfrogs, canadian geese, skunks, porcupines, coyotes, and more. In addition to the 130 varieties of herbs, I had 78 varieties of veggie starts and we did 6 different markets in northern NM every week during the season. I know most of the northern NM farming community personally. What starts I didn't sell, I planted out and we had produce to sell (and freeze) all season. My medicines came from the garden, as well as my food, my relaxation, my satisfaction.

But, as one of the characters in your book observed, you can't really do it alone. Its just not possible to keep up with it all, kep it all running smoothly, especially as my physical health declined. So I closed the nursery in summer 2007 and moved to Albuquerque to be closer to medical care (which I never received - I completed two rounds of alternative therapy tho, and have regained much physical functioning but physical work, especially 18 hrs/day 300 days/year is completely out of the question). I also started a MA in Rhetoric and Writing at UNM and am down to my last 3 credits on that degree. I moved back to Taos last Sept (2009) to sell my farm since I have no way to pay for it as I am unable to do the work that i've been an expert in for 20 years. The farm's about to be foreclosed on, any day now, which is really a shame because I have private springs on the property (3.23 acres) that yield at least 3.18ac/ft of water annually. Private water in NM is like gold - you can water all day, every day and never have to share or account for your use. It made my nursery possible for all those years. Its been great, its a beautiful, lush, organic property, the representation of 20 years of hard labor farming, and its about to be totally lost. So that's a little sad. I hate to not be compensated somehow for 20 years of less than $5/hr hard labor. But, oh well, at least i'm still alive, not in searing pain like I was a few years ago, and my cognitive function is restored as far as its going to be. Life is beautiful and i'm still putting one foot in front of the other. Hallelujah!

But back to what makes me sad - your book reminds me of how idyllic life can be when one has, or comes from, plenty of money to live your dreams. Twelve thousand dollars for solar panels, spent without half a thought?!?! IN addition to a windmill, piping, veg oil converter ... all in a year!?! Wow - must be nice. But its unrealistic. Its sad to me that so many people (like my entire class of 11 mostly city-dwellers in Michelle Kell's "Environmental Rhetoric" this semester) read your book and think its an easy shift, beleive that living naturally is just a year-long transition that any of us can do. Maybe its all jolly good fun when you know you are financed and your future is secure. So many of us farmers in NM struggle to feed our families and the populace - but do so very well - because this is what we know how to do, all we know to do in many cases. Its not a game or an experiment for us, we can't pack up and go back where we came from when we've bored of the novelty. Most of us live simple, natural lives because there is just no money or resources to do otherwise. We raise chickens for eggs and meat because to buy organic from the store is too expensive on foodstamps. We have goats because cheap milk is poisoned with pesticides and hormones and organic is unaffordable. We freeze veggies and can fruits because who can afford $3/lb at the grocery store in winter (and that's the non-organic price!)?

I guess its sad to me that those of us who already know how to do all this, who have been raised knowing how to do it, for whom its second nature, who aren't "rawhides", our intrinsic knowledge is disappearing and there is no replacement. We don't have to read a book or call the rancher up the road to ask how to grow/raise it all, be our own vet, fix the vehicles, read the weather, build the barn, run the plumbing and electrical ourselves. We already know and its body-knowledge. For the life of me, I couldn't describe in words how I know which nutrients are needed in my greenhouse full of 10,000 plants. I just know. I can tell by their smell when my livestock is sick. And on and on. We just know these things. We do all this, we are environmentalists, because this is our life and in our blood. We wouldn't think of putting chickens in a coop that wasn't secure from coyotes because its a guaranteed waste of chickens, a waste of those lives that are an integral part of our own. As you experienced, it takes from you personally when you lose even one chicken. This lifestyle is our foundation, our connection to the earth, our fulfillment. We don't do it because its fashionable, or the latest politcally correct perspective, or because we object to Walmart importing crap from China. Its not for the sake of a book or an article or fodder for anecdotes when we return to our "real" lives elsewhere. I think its sad to me because when its a game it has less import, carries less weight; it has less of the stark, sere beauty of the land around us which literally brands our flesh with its power.

Anyway, those are my reflections on your book, the thoughts and feelings it aroused in me. I hope you keep growing and remain dedicated to NM's beauty and promise.

Best Regards,
Heather Rowley