My parents grew up in dictatorship Portugal on a remote island in the middle of the atlantic. They had no electricity, travelled by foot or (if lucky) horse, worked the land, ate what they grew, wove cloth from what they grew, filled their bedding with hay and moss from their farm. In short when I explain my parents’ life growing up, I equate it to Little House on the Prairies.
While in Australia, Ryan learned how to sharpen and shape scythes (one of the oldest and rarest skills out there). It’s no scythe, but Ryan spent time sharpening an old style paper cutter blade with nothing more than oil and a whetstone.

Maybe it was growing up hearing these stories that made me interested in living simply. Of regaining old skills we have lost to technology. I’m not saying I plan strip flax stems to retrieve the fiber inside to weave linen on a loom (still can’t believe my grandma did that) but I do get such a happy feeling when I do things the old way, the way of my parents and all my grandparents before them. They had a hard life but a good one that gave them skills many people today have lost. And you have to admit there’s no better meal than the one you grew yourself.

We spent Saturday morning at my parents’ harvesting pears, apples and mulberry leaves (dried for tea leaves, good for colds and aids in weight loss).

We kickstarted this weekend at my parents’ home where I grew up on an acre full of fruit trees and vegetable plants. I remember as a child being annoyed I couldn’t climb the trees (I did anyway) and thinking “Why can’t we have normal trees?”, or as a teenager thinking it was lame to eat vegetables grown in our backyard. I am now so thankful for that upbringing. I watched my food grow every year, and from a very early age I knew exactly where meat came from. We used to host Matanças (Portuguese for ‘the killing’) where a group of people purchase a slaughtered pig then together process the meat. I have clear memories of watching the men gut the pig (I’ll admit I was horrified) then taking the meat and helping my mom stuff it into sausage casing. This might make you cringe, but to me it is crucial people (including children) know where their food comes from. Sure this ritual may have been the result of my early vegetarianism that lasted over a decade, but being this close to the process allowed me to realize meat does not come from a store wrapped in plastic like many youth of today believe (I’m a teacher, I’ve talked to those children).
We spent all weekend preserving all our goodies, making jam, applesauce, pear simple syrup, pear balsamic reduction syrup and dried apple rings. We’re still not done.
It’s interesting to think that the lifestyle my parents grew up with is now referred to as “The Simple Life”. My parents will quickly tell you there was nothing simple about how they grew up. It was grueling work that was absolutely necessary for survival. While their upbringing has always intrigued me, I think I’ll pick and choose what I bring into my own life.
I would love to use their natural health remedies, but don’t want to be without modern day medicine.
I would cherish drinking fresh milk straight from the cow every morning, but wouldn’t want to be the one waking up at 4am to move and milk the cattle.
I can’t wait to grow all (or most) of my own food and meat, but couldn’t live without the pleasures of chocolate and coffee.

And so I strive to live a balance between my world and theirs, living my day to day life as much as anyone else, with a smattering of home grown foods and simple skills under my belt.