The bags are once again out of the closet and prepared for packing. This sends Rufus into orbit as he’s always nervous that he won’t get to come along on the holiday. Silly dog. The only time we don’t bring him is when some government says we can’t, such as Ireland who requires a six month wait after the rabies test is done.

Anyhoo, Rufus and we are going to Corsica for a week! First we’ll drive to Aix-en-Provence and toodle around there until we have to drive to Toulon where we’ll catch the night ferry to Corsica. As per usual, we’re venturing out without much of a plan and no guidebook. We’ll hit the tourist office on the Sunday we arrive, and then decide. Actually we’ll dicker back and forth and the plan will shift daily and will reflect numerous compromises and concessions. But we’ll each get our way some of the time, and we’ll make sure that the other realizes the full extent of the sacrifices being made so that one of us is happy. The dog — thumping his tail throughout it all because he’s just so happy (and relieved) to be included — will remind us to not be petty little piss pots, to quit counting who got what, and to genuinely enjoy ourselves. Thank God, for dogs.

We experienced another sonic boom today, our second. Good golly those things are ferocious. There’s absolutely no way to anticipate them. None. Afterwards, the valley echoed with howling dogs. We gathered our wits and stuffed our hearts back into our chest cavities. Still, the sky seemed bigger and more beautiful after a boom, as if the sound that defies description made it multiply.

Speaking of skies, we’ve seen more than our fair share of shooting stars this summer. So many that I’ve lost track of what I’ve wished on the lot of them. If I head towards the darker parts of the village on a clear night, the sky is puddled with stars and it’s amazing to stand beneath them. In a weird way these experiences feel possible only because of where we are – in the sticks of southwest France, in a sleepy village, on the far edge of a valley. Maybe I’m kidding myself. Maybe not.

Last week we received four stairs of wood, which is hopefully enough to see us through the winter. Monsieur M delivered the wood in two allotments, each time calling at the last minute to say he was waiting for us, that his previous delivery had been canceled or hadn’t taken as long as he thought it would, yadda yadda. No matter. We were very, very glad to see the wood guy.

Four stairs of wood is a lotta wood. With each delivery, Monsieur M backed his truck up Rue du Barry and dumped the wood into the middle of the road in front of our cave. Then he collected his money (cash only) and drove off. He wasn’t being rude or careless. It’s just that he only does wood deliveries. He does not do wood stacking. So, Tim and I had to haul ass to move the wood from the road to the cave before a car came along. Wouldn’t you know that a car always came along! Of course. Any other day there would be no cars whatsoever. On wood delivery day, there were cars with people impatient to be on their way, or people who needed to get to the airport. The airport people, though, I give them credit. They at least were pragmatic about the situation and helped us move the wood to the side of the road so that they could get past.

At any rate, on the eve of yet another journey, I’m trying my hand at being more intentional, at being pleased as punch about the sonic booms, the shooting stars and the stairs of wood, all of which have managed to make the everyday less ordinary.

The Vendange (grape harvest) is upon us in Roquebrun. It began last Thursday to be exact. In one place or another throughout the region the harvest is in full swing. On the roads, there are tractors and harvesters that you have to wait for a break in the traffic to pass. The cooperatives are abuzz with drop-offs and people congregating to chat about the harvest. More notably, there’s an excitement in the air that’s new for me. It’s the apex to many months of anticipation. I love being admidst it, and in a strange way I feel invested in it. I want the harvest to be good, and not just because I’m a wine drinker wanting something tasty to knock back.

On Saturday there was a fête in the village that we think is done especially for the grape pickers that follow the harvest from vineyard to vineyard in their tricked out campervans. We walked down to the esplanade expecting to see the usual array of locals, but hoo-boy were we wrong. Most were more of the patchouli/dreadlocked/Grateful Dead set. Except they They preferred their French punk band which was then followed by an hour or two of reggae tunes DJ’d until the next band was scheduled to play. As with the summer fêtes, the party went on until about 2 AM. I tried to sleep through it…but no cigar. Tim and his Dad went down to the esplanade (because if you can’t beat ‘em…) with Rufus. Rufus, I learned the next morning, had a GRAND time running free, meeting other dogs, and snarfing up what bits he could find around the BBQ pit. He brought home with him some vendange fleas as well. I know this because during the night they made their way over to me. Ew.

When we flew from Girona (Spain) to Brno (Czech Republic) for my brother’s wedding, the Spanish passengers clapped when the plane landed. It was a picture perfect day weather-wise, no mid-air bumps worth noting, and the landing was “brisk” but uneventful. Tim and I were confused by the celebration. But we chuckled, muttered how cute it was for them to applaud your basic, by-the-book landing.

The cheers erupted again when we touched ground on the return trip, a flight peopled by a whole new set of Spanish passengers, a handful of Czechs, and us. Once more we’d had blue skies, smooth flight, your basic landing experience. Is this something that Spanish do for every flight, we wondered? If there’s turbulence, do they throw a block party all the way to the gate?

We’ll fly out of Girona often enough that I suppose we’ll find out.

A couple weeks later I mentioned this little story to a friend who saw the whole thing completely differently. Her response, which I quote, “everyone should clap and cheer when a plane lands successfully.”

You know, she’s on to something.

I first learned of Katie McCaskey through the Ladies Who Launch online Social Network earlier in the summer.  As I browsed through the various groups within the network the one she started, Urban Escapees, caught my eye.  Who’s escaping, I wondered? From what? And, where were they escaping, too?

Through some chitty chat with Katie I learned that all kinds of people are embracing a cultural movement known as New Ruralism by which they uproot from the big city to re-root in small towns and rural environments.  What drives them?  It’s not an urge to swap contemporary life for life à la Little House on the Prairie (which is a different movement).  They don’t ditch their laptops or careers or have to sacrifice central heating or even season tickets to the symphony.  Quite the contrary.  Like Katie, a former Manhattanite, the word sacrifice doesn’t even enter the conversation and technology is an essential component to the lifestyle.  As you’ll find, New Ruralism is more about blending and fusing what might once have been perceived as opposing choices and impossible combinations.  It’s also as much about green and socially conscious living as it’s about facilitating lifestyle choices with a high speed internet connection.

More importantly, this is a story of someone who sidestepped her apprehensions to follow their instincts, her sense of purpose and pursue the greater vision she held for her life.  Such stories never fail to inspire me.  I imagine, that it’s the same for you.  So, without further ado here’s the written replay of my pow-wow with Katie.

Roquebrun, France & Staunton, Virginia, August, 2008

MG: You know I think the back story is the place for us to start.  How did this lifestyle change and this New Ruralism interest come about?

KM: The beginning…yeah…this all started with an evaluation of my lifestyle in NY.  I was starting to feel like I needed a change, but I didn’t know what that change would entail. I also wanted to buy a house, and I couldn’t figure out a way for that to happen. So that got me thinking about where else I could live AND, by extension, how I wanted to live my life. This sparked a bunch of unexpected, but happy, changes.

MG: But, how did you wind up choosing Staunton, Virginia? Where is it?

KM: Well, my family is from here and I’d spent part of my childhood here.  So Staunton wasn’t totally unfamiliar to me. Staunton is located about 2-1/2 hours south of Washington, D.C.

MG: Before I get sidetracked by that tidbit, what is New Ruralism?  And is this a term you coined or is it floating out there?

KM: It’s floating out there.  So, I’m a co-opter not a coiner.   Unfortunately, I think “New Ruralism” is mostly used to describe upscale, country homes — frequently new development. I disagree there and see New Ruralism as being more about the ability to use today’s technology to have the best of both worlds. Using technology you are no longer tied to a specific geographic location in order to have social or career opportunities.

For example, I “work” by way of computer and internet connection in New York and Boston…and I visit both…but I spend my day-to-day in what some would call “the country”.  What really makes the idea of New Ruralism so exciting and freeing for me is that it redefines a rural existence. Even better, it allows a new kind of “rural” experience, one that includes lifestyle options normally associated with urban living. For example, easy walking access to shops and entertainment. And yes, you can have that experience in a small town — without the hassles of crowds.

MG: It’s sounds like you’ve totally remapped your perspective about geography

KM: Yes, but really on outlook, too. You don’t realize how many cultural assumptions you make based on where you live. For example, you could generalize about what makes a “city” person and what makes a “country” person. There aren’t many flattering stereotypes in either direction. What is different now is that the definition of “city” or “country” person is more fluid.  We have the ability to travel back and forth more, of course, but the real revolution is the possibility to truly engage in a new way of seeing things.

MG: Now for a little side-tracking.  Was the decision to come back to your home town easy or difficult?

KM: Both.  It was difficult but not in ways I was expecting.  Everyone has this vision of where they grew up and what that means to them. Coming back as an adult I realized that in equal measures I’m exactly the same, and completely different person. I think it’s a really human desire to name a specific place as “home”. While my definition of New Ruralism might seem to confuse the issue of home or loyalty, coming back has been really empowering and exciting.

MG: Do you find yourself stumbling on people who are contemplating or have made a similar lifestyle change?

KM: Yes.  It’s funny but I’m meeting some of them right here in Staunton.  As well as online. To me it’s becoming apparent that there’s a growing phenomenon of people who choose to live in this kind of location but whose work is concentrated in an entirely different place.  And it’s not just people in the technology field who are making this shift.  My boyfriend had an offer to work remotely for an architectural firm.  So, there are lots of different fields and skill sets for which this is an entirely possible lifestyle.  The present limitation would be that most telecommute jobs require “knowledge economy” skills. So I suppose it’s somewhat limiting that way, but this could change.

MG: What do you hope happens with your other brain child/creative outlet, the Urban Escapee Network?  And, why is it called the Urban Escapee rather than New Ruralism Network?

KM: Ha! I wanted to register the New Ruralism domain but it was already taken.  So Urban Escapee came out of a brainstorm.  The network came about because I know there are a lot of others making or wanting to make this transition.  So, I decided to do this to create a way of connecting with those people. Once I get the critical mass of people I’d like to get, I’m thinking about hosting events online. In all honesty, my vision for the network is still fermenting and bubbling.

MG: On your blog (http://urbanescapee.com) you talk about – and share some great pictures I must add – of the house you’re living in and fixing up, the Lucretia Cox house.  But you’re also renovating another house?  A lot of people want to drink Drano at the very thought of fixing up one house.  But you’re doing two?

KM: Thank you! Well the house we’re living in, the Lucretia Cox house, is just a small cottage. We’re doing stuff to it to make it comfortable, to make it ours, and because we can quickly see a result.  Our other house is a long-term project.  It’s a wreck.  We joke it’s the “Fight Club” house — It’s stripped down to its studs!  We hope to be able to move into it with 3-5 years, and even after that we’ll be working on it for a long, long time.  It’s something I’m looking forward to savoring for a long, long time.

MG: Sounds like someone’s HGTV fantasies are coming true…

KM: Yes! I love the way these projects meld together all of my design interests, and pull in my historical interests.  It really does speak to me, this idea of restoring a house that’s historically authentic.  I’m finding whole new ways of expressing my creativity.

MG: Your change in zipcode really triggered some more fundamental changes it seems.

KM: I know!  I’m so hesitant to say that though because it seems so BIG.  But still all this feels like it was meant to happen…so I’m letting it happen.

MG: You haven’t been in Staunton all that long…

KM: No, it’s only been a matter of months.

MG: Well there must be something in the water that energizes you, because in addition to everything else you’re doing, you’re also now a partner in a new grocery store.  I don’t get to meet many people who sign up for that sort of thing, so what’s the scoop?

KM: This is an example of being open and ready for new possibilities.  One day early on, I was working from a local coffee shop called The Dirty Bean. I was chatting with the owner and mentioned how I missed corner stores. You know, being able to just walk downstairs, or around the corner, to get staple items like I could in New York.  And as it turns out the owner owned the empty storefront next door and had been considering putting in a neighborhood grocery store. Apparently, the building that housed a grocers in the 1880’s. Well, I had to agree it was an awesome idea, and I wanted to be involved. We started talking and brainstorming and the end result is that the four of us – the owners and my boyfriend and I, are re-launching this same building as a grocery store.  And we’re naming the store after the original grocer, George Bowers.

And here’s the kicker: the original George Bowers moved from New York City to set up shop in Staunton. Meant to be, right?

MG: But did you wake up one day and say “I want to be a grocer. How can I make that happen?”

KM: Are you kidding?  This is not something I would have thought would interest me, but it makes perfect sense given that for a long time I’ve been really interested in issues surrounding food and food production, the environmental impact of locally produced foods, organic foods.

MG: You’re going to get the best gossip in town.  The woman who runs the market in my village knows everything about everyone.

KM: I’d better.  But that touches on one aspect of why I moved to Staunton in the first place.  I wanted a sense of community, to know my neighbors and the people around me.  In New York I think I talked to my neighbors all of three times.  Now, that’s not to say that neighborliness isn’t possible in the city, but for me it wasn’t happening.  So George Bowers lets me be actively involved in the community from the get-go and to interact with people from all walks of life.

MG: Are you going to grocer school?

KM: I wish.  There’s no time! I’m just flying by the seat of my grocer pants.

MG: What’s driving you to charge ahead despite all the unknowns and – in your words – not having any practical experience with the world of grocering.

KM: Through this venture I can have a positive impact.  I can better myself but also my community.

MG: How does a small town grocery store do all that?

KM: Right off the bat, we’re featuring locally produced products, from veggies to canned goods.  Our emphasis is locally produced, so that empowers the consumer to know where your food has been grown, the methods they used.  And the local producers have a direct outlet to the consumer beyond the farmers market held once a week.  As a modern society we’ve lost touch with where our food comes from.  But also there’s a huge disparity in the quality of food available to people in lower income brackets that I hope our grocery store address, too.  In many communities it’s really difficult for poor people to access fresh fruits and vegetables.  So, George Bowers will offer WIC/food stamp eligible produce.

MG: One of your most potent motivators seems to be about how you can make a difference, and providing locally produced feta and balsamic to rich and poor alike is a step in that direction.

KM: Sure.  If I can do something that has even a small impact on this crazy unfair food disparity that would be fantastic.  That would be so meaningful. Man’s search for meaning — or in my case, woman’s…

MG: I’m stepping out on a limb, here, but I predict George Bowers will become a destination for people far outside of Staunton.  There’s something about your passion that just screams you have the bootstraps to make it that big.

KM: Thanks, I hope so.  We’ve already had a good buzz. People in their 70’s who have lived in Staunton all their life to the hipster college students keep asking when we’re going to open. That makes me feel really good to see the breadth of people who are interested in us.

MG: How can we stay in the loop with the store opening?

KM: We set up a website, www.georgebowersgrocery.com, and are posting updates.  If all goes according to plan, we’ll have our grand opening at the end of October.

MG: Any last morsels of wisdom for others contemplating a lifestyle change or in the throes of one?

KM: I keep reminding myself to look at the bright side despite disappointments. I keep reminding myself that I have control over how I deal with these things. It’s a lot easier to get back up and going if you have a positive attitude.  Don’t let the setbacks take away the joy. The unexpected can happen, and that can be the best possible outcome.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

5 TAKEAWAYS

“This is not something I would have thought would interest me, but it makes perfect sense given that for a long time I’ve been really interested in issues surrounding food and food production….”

1.  When opportunity strikes it may not arrive in the form you expected.

If you’re crystal clear on the gist of what you want from an opportunity, you’ll often find that the particulars are secondary in importance.

“…I know there are a lot of others making or wanting to make this transition.  So, I decided to do this [Urban Escapee Network] to create a way of connecting those people.”

2. Be the one who “does”.

If you’re hungry for a certain kind of community, step up to create it rather than hope that someone else will take the initiative.  Although someone else might eventually come along and take charge, you might be waiting a long time.  Is that a wait that serves or frustrates your need for connection?

“In all honesty, my vision for the network is still fermenting and bubbling.“

3.  Crockpot your ideas.

Katie launched the Urban Escapee Network with some ideas in mind but nothing in cement.  Is she losing sleep over this?  Is she hung up on what others might think?  Not a chance.  She’s trusting herself, her process, that she can adjust and tweak the flavors of this urban escapee brew as it brews.  It’s a slow cook method that lets her have a whole lot of fun developing her concept.

“If I can do something that has even a small impact on this crazy unfair food disparity that would be fantastic.”

4.  Hear ye, hear ye: a small impact is way more than no impact.

You may not, for example, be able to end all hunger.  Yes, that’s frustrating…and crappy.  But you can still contribute to a cause that speaks to you.  You might, for example, find a way to lessen hunger for at least one person in one corner of the world.  And that one person, no doubt, would be profoundly grateful that you opted for to give something over nothing.

“…the real revolution is the possibility to truly engage in a new way of seeing things.”

5. Perspective isn’t just something you learn in art class.

The lens through which you view the world has a tremendous impact on what you perceive to be possible.  Quite often when we believe that opportunity is sorely lacking, it’s because our perspective on the matter is a royal hindrance to espying them, even when they’re cha-chaing on on our chins.

ABOUT KATIE

In 2008 Katie McCaskey and her boyfriend relcoated from New York City (pop. “mega”) to a Staunton, Virginia (pop. 25,000) by choice.  On her personal blog, UrbanEscapee.com, she writes about the transition of living from a large city to a rural town, of renovating an 1891 Victorian while also making small changes to a stone cottage circa 1868 (her current abode), and of her newest endeavor – partnership in a a boutique grocery store that supplies locally-produced “staple goods & fancy groceries”, George Bowers Grocery.  As if that weren’t already a full plate, she also works remotely (and full time) for a company located in Boston.  On Twitter you can follow the progress of the grocery store’s develoment, the grand opening of which is now slated for November 1, 2008.  If you’re interested in hooking into the UrbanEscapee community, consider joining Katie’s Facebook group or the Urban Esacpee Network.

Several houses in our village sell vegetables plucked from their garden allotments throughout the summer.  Although we can get fresh vegetables at the open air markets elsewhere in the area, there’s something extra special about veg that’s grown just down from the lane we live on, that we’ve seen seen in all their growth stages – from seedlings to ripe for picking. To take advantage of this perk, I’ve mussied up the kitchen testing out summery salads that are substantial enough to be a main course for lunch or the primary side dish at a dinner time BBQ.  The salad featured here is one of them.

I pinched the guts of this recipe from Jamie Oliver’s lovely cookbook, Jamie’s Italy.  It’s based on his “insalata di farro con verdure al forno”.  Translation?  A farro (spelt) salad with roasted veg.  Sounds simple enough in plain English.

Unfortunately I haven’t found spelt in the supermarkets…yet.  Or, bulghar wheat.  These are the grains that the recipe prescribes and either would set within this dish a delicious, nutty backbone.  So, I’ve resorted to plan B:  couscous.  Couscous still creates a tasty salad, but it’s different enough from spelt that I’ve tweaked the recipe a bit to compensate.  And in the locavore spirit, I’ve stuck to using what I can buy in the village.  So, at times I’ve had to use a finer grain of couscous over the preferred medium grain.  I’ve also had to tweak the amounts of some of the vegetables based on the size or general availability:  the eggplants have proved to be “tres grande” (i.e. monsters) compared to the ones I used to buy in Whole Foods, and the zucchini tends to be massive as well; the yellow squash is often absent from the squash bins.  Anyhoo….

Couscous & Veg à les Jardins de Roqubrun

• 1 box of medium-grain couscous (about 14 oz.)
• salt-free chicken or vegetable stock (preferably made from scratch, but ready-made works too).  The amount will depend on how much couscous you intend to make.
• 2 yellow squash, halved lengthways and deseeded, then cut into half moons
• 1 zucchini (courgettes),halved lengthways and deseeded, then cut into half moons
• 2 bulbs of fennel, trimmed and thickly sliced, leafy tops reserved
• 2 small red onion, peeled and cut into wedges
• 2 red bell peppers, halved, deseeded, and cut into chunks
• 1 eggplant, cut into chunks
• 6 cloves of garlic, peeled
• extra virgin olive oil
• sea salt
• freshly ground black pepper
• white wine vinegar  (you’ll need maybe a tablespoon or two or three)
• fresh herbs – a ginormous bunch that includes flat-leaf parsley, sweet basil, oregano, thyme and mint
• half a lemon, perhaps a whole lemon
• a heaping handful of sliced almonds

To Make:

• Preheat the oven to 400°F.

• In a single layer, put all of the chopped vegetables into a roasting pan along with the garlic cloves.  Splash the veggies and garlic with a generous shower of olive oil and a generous sprinkling of sea salt and freshly ground pepper. Roast them in the pre-heated oven for 30-40 minutes, taking them out from time to time to shake them a little, and to make sure they’re cooked through and crisping nicely around the edges.

• The amount of couscous you make should be in proportion to your veg.  If you have a lot of veg, amp up the amount of couscous.  In the end, you’ll probably have to adjust the amount of lemon juice and olive oil in the final phase of this dish, but that’s how you make someone else’s recipe sort of your own.

• While the veggies are roasting, prepare the couscous as per the package directions but be sure to cook it in the broth rather than plain water.  I also like to add a little bit of olive oil to it once it’s cooked, just to make sure it’s moist but not sloppy.  The couscous can be kept warm or allowed to cool.  I like this salad at both temperatures.

• When the veggies are ready, remove them from the oven and immediately give them a nice splash of the white wine vinegar and allow them to cool.  Once they are cool, unload the veggies onto a chopping board, add the fresh herbs, and chop everything up into smaller pieces.

• In a small, non-stick frying pan, toast the almond slivers until they’re a nice light brown.  Be careful not to burn them!  (Or scorch them, as I have once…OK, twice.)

• Empty the couscous into a large mixing (or serving) bowl, and dress with some more olive oil, the juice of the lemon, some more salt and freshly ground pepper.  I sometimes add juices left in the roasting pan.  Toss in the vegetables and mix them well with the couscous and the toasted almonds.  Sprinkle the reserved fennel leaves on top.

• You may want to add a little more lemon juice, garnish it with a little more fresh mint and sweet basil, or add in some chunks of feta or shaved parmesan cheese if the spirit moves you.  Which is what I do.  And not because I don’t know when to quit.

This is a colorful dish that makes a pretty presentation, especially if you get enough red onion, red pepper, and yellow squash into the mix.  It’s also what I would call accessible food, food that’s easy to imagine moving from plate to mouth.

While I’m fond (for obvious, biased reasons) of my version of this salad, I highly recommend the Italian cuisine themed book from which the original recipe was derived.  I love Italian food, especially the kind served at the table of your average fisherman, farmer or candlestick maker. It’s not Michelin star fare, but it’s lick-the- plate good.  What more do you need?