Living in the Future

By Julia Karamea, New Zealand

Physically, I’m in New Zealand these days. But mentally I’m somewhere completely different. As I tend to my garden duties on Rose and Gary’s farm, my mind drifts to my future home in Vermont. I’m imagining harvesting my own potatoes instead of theirs. I fantasize about cooking in my own kitchen. Even my subconscious wants in on Home – I had a dream the other night that I was trying on all my clothes and shoes back home. It was much better than my usual dream about having to repeat high school for eternity.

 The bittersweet truth about our last leg of the trip is how detached we are from our surroundings. I desperately want to enjoy the present – a rare opportunity to travel in New Zealand – but I can’t. Tom and I banter incessantly about every possible aspect of our lives in Vermont: our house, our careers, our dog, our wedding - new hobbies, new friends, new microbrews (Tom’s favorite topic). Plan A, B and Cs of job possibilities. My inevitable “get rich slow” schemes. There’s so much to look forward to and yet it is making us blind to the here and now.
I’ve employed a few tactics to distract myself from Home with limited success. The slow internet access at Rose and Gary’s means I don’t spend time on the computer dealing with wedding and job planning. I’ve also tried to find different things to talk about with Tom, but honestly, after nine months glued to one another, sometimes I end up hosting a ‘Chris Farley Show.’ (“Remember that time we rode elephants in Nepal? … That was cool.”) Luckily, being around the youngsters for any length of time pretty much demolishes any coherent thought, so they have been an effective tool.

 Just when I thought I was starting get Zen in Karamea, this old hippie shows up with a book for Tom and me to read. “It’s called ‘Living the Good Life’,” he explained. “It’s about some kids from Vermont who stated a farm. Made me think of you.”

Thanks, guy.
 
It turns out the book he lent us was none other than Helen and Scott Nearing’s seminal memoir about starting an organic farm during the Great Depression. The Nearlings spearheaded the organic movement long before yuppies in Berkley or Whole Foods even existed. So here we are, thousands of miles from Vermont, reading about Vermont.

To further upend any sense I have of time and space, it is the beginning of autumn here in New Zealand. Tom and I have been engaging in all sorts of traditional fall activities – from pumpkin picking to apple pie baking. How is it that last week I was picking summer strawberries with Bernie and Anne, now I’m roasting squash and next month I will be witnessing Spring try to wrench itself from the clutches of a brutal Northeastern Winter?

This weekend I’m taking drastic measures. Tom and I are going to tramp the Heaphy Track on the north end of the South Island for four days. It is one of New Zealand’s Great Walks, and I’m determined to live in the moment. There will be no talk of playing fetch with Sylvester or which job Tom hopes to get. Just the New Zealand wilderness and us. With our luck, someone will show up on the trail with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s.