We are building shelter for the new meat rabbit herd.  The bunnies have been here a few weeks, and soon it will be too cold for their current charming & rustic tarp-based home.  Raising rabbits at Acorn is one part of making the farm more self sufficient.

This shed is made mostly from materials we found on the farm.  First we poured concrete left over from another project into rusted out buckets and used tires, embedding bent pieces of rebar in each one.  Then we cut rounds of black walnut branches (thanks craigslist), to make a level surface between the piers and provide a rot resistant layer of wood at the bottom.  The shelter is across the way from organic garden space, so pressure treated wood isn’t an option.  I would rather not use it anywhere.  The frame is made with timber from the tinnery, a small old structure we took down earlier this year, and the roof  is 5v panels from the same building, and just a little bit rusty.  New roof paint is one thing we will get through the global market.  In these pictures we’re building the south wall from two different kinds of thrown-away wood, shipping pallets and slab cuts from a saw mill.

Check back for more updates, including uses for rabbit manure.

My five-day visit to Acorn:

It’s great to meet a group of people – especially so many young ones – who have opted out of the capitalist rat race and are trying their best to live their values: community, sustainability, kindness. The few ramshackle buildings where people live and work are surrounded by oak, poplar and beech woods. There is both seriousness – they run a seed business that sustains the community – and playful: the path to a dance party last night was lit by a row of Christmas lights. The party took place in the “love shack” just past a collection of diverse and amazing tree houses. People mostly danced in a circle and for a while, four young women were dancing on a bouncy mattress in the corner. Daniel (ah, if I was only 40 years younger!) was walking around with a box of wine, playfully offering little cups of “the blood of Christ” to willing takers. He then put a big pillow under his shirt and asked people if they wanted to punch him, then made another round and offered well-padded hugs.

Although they joke about being a hippie commune, there actually isn’t a lot of public physical affection. People seem contained. One member described himself as being on the cusp of extrovert and introvert: he would not be comfortable talking to random strangers in a bar, but he loved living with people and was friendly with those in the community.

There is a lot of talent here: Delicious meals are routinely prepared by people who sign up ahead of time to make them. Although the booklet titled “READ ME” -  which must have been written a long time ago when there were children here – says the commune is vegetarian, that has evolved and there is meat or chicken at almost every supper and often also at lunch. People are on their own for breakfast.

The booklet also describes the members as being a little shy. So a visitor often has to make the effort to initiate conversation, ask questions, and then people are perfectly willing to talk. The biggest age group seems to be in their early to mid twenties with a sprinkling of other ages up to 62. At meetings, many busy hands are either cutting tomatoes for drying or cleaning herbs from the garden or processing the never-ending supply of onion bulbs for the seed business by sorting into small and large, and cleaning them with a toothbrush. During my visit, there were always bushel baskets of onion bulbs waiting to be cleaned in the living room.

What surprised me: that there are no children; no live music, at least during my stay; and most of all, that only one person has been here from the beginning about 20 years ago. I’ve always wanted to visit a commune, I’ve always dreamed of living in an intentional community that had shared values but it never occurred to me that there would be more turnover than not. Ira, one of the founders who still lives here and who came from Twin Oaks, a kind of mother community to Acorn, says Americans move a lot and therefore so do those who want to live in community. People interested in living here come for a three week visit, then leave for 10 days. All decisions, including acceptance of new members, are made by consensus and the community uses the Quaker Clearness Process to discuss each potential member both individually and in a group. If the candidate is accepted, he or she goes through a nine-month provisional membership during which there are additional, regular clearness meetings.

The expectation is that people will work 42 hours a week, or six hours a day. It’s a human and humane work schedule. When you start and finish or how you divide your time is up to you. One member likes to sleep till 10, another is up by 6. People seem hard-working and like their hearts are in what they are doing. There is a lot of talent here: In addition to the good cooks, there are carpenters, writers, farmers, and more. The houses are surrounded by herb and vegetable gardens, some for consumption and some grown for the seed business. Things seem to tick along smoothly with no visible top down hierarchy. Acorn is part of the Federation of Egalitarian Communities, which means they share income equally. But there doesn’t appear to be much dogma about it. Cars are shared and there is a shed full of communal bicycles, though some people own their own bikes and almost everyone has a laptop. There are also community as well as privately owned towels and bedding and clothing. The one bathroom in the main building features a charming row of toothbrushes as well as clearly labeled containers: hair products; insect bites and poison ivy medications; ace bandages, etc.

There are twice weekly meetings and a bulletin board with announcements, work that needs to be done, rides wanted, etc. There doesn’t seem to be anyone specifically in charge of visitors and you have to find your way and ask around in order to contribute work-wise, to get information and to know what’s expected (though basic guidelines for visitors are in the READ ME booklet.) It’s hard to know whether you are bugging people when you ask them – and they’ve probably been asked dozens of times — how they got here or why they want to live communally, but on the other hand, everyone seems more than willing to share their stories.  Along with the hard work, there is a laid back, relaxed feeling to Acorn.

On our last day, we got a tour of Twin Oaks. It was love at first sight! From the touside, it looks like Paradise. Perhaps because of the physical beauty of the place and the dozens of people I saw who had chosen to live communally. But perhaps also because I was visiting for only an hour as opposed to a few days so my response wasn’t clouded by thoughts of what will it be like and will they like me and other mental/emotional detritus. I leave with a twinge of sadness and longing: had I taken another path in my 20’s, had I listened closely to my heart and followed my dream of living in a rural, intentional community….well, then I wouldn’t have the life I have today, which is also a good one, thank God. But still. I didn’t live my dream. Of course it’s hard as a committed Jew to live in a setting without others to share Shabbat, holidays, etc. Why is there still no Jewish commune in the U.S? And of course the thought: Is it too late in life to find an appropriate intentional community in Israel? And even if I did, could I drag Bob there?

I want to thank everyone at Acorn for hosting us and specifically: Thomas for making it possible; Ira for so generously taking hours out of her busy day to take us to Twin Oaks and back and arranging for a tour – and, like everyone, being willing to share her story; Nicole for early morning connections – I hope you find your way of making the impact you want on the world; Fiver for your great smile, willingness to endlessly chauffeur, unending helpfulness in getting me out of Richmond post-Hurricane Irene; Kevin for being so easy to work and talk with; Irena and Fox for tolerating question after question as I was making lunch (I’m happy to share recipes if anyone wants); McGuyver for offering last minute help when we were late getting lunch on the table;  Daniel and Nicole for taking the time to ask how I was doing; Jacqueline for being so friendly to us and for always having a little song going; everyone for being willing to answer all my curious questions and to share their stories. I wish you all luck and blessings in this amazing endeavor! And again, you are all welcome to stay with us if your path ever takes you to Jerusalem. I highly recommend it! – Ruth

Raising children in a community like Acorn will be an exciting and uncommon journey. We know it will also be a challenge that is sure to bring many interesting blog posts in the future.

And, for the tripper, personally fulfilling everyone’s tri-weekly Christmas list is a fairly enjoyable task in itself.  Whereas the non-communitarian may feel drudgery in running their own errands, the consolidated, utilitarian, and of course, labor-creditable act of fulfilling the communities’ errands inspires selfless heroism and virtue.  A handful of routine and semi-routine activities serve to establish a familiar pattern that each tripper can look forward to and plan for in the most efficient means possible:

-pick up the PO box mail for the Business (every trip)
-drop off community mail at the Post Office (most trips)
-go to the bank (most trips)
-pick up food and alcohol requests (almost all trips)
-drop off excess produce at the local food bank (often)
-pick up parts/garden equipment/misc. supplies at a hardware store (almost all trips)
-dumpster at the local grocery stores (preferably every trip, at the discretion/preference of the tripper)
-pick up/drop off books at the library (often)
-check thrift store for commie clothes/misc finds (at tripper’s will)

To prevent excess car use, I will often do the town trips if I already have business to take care of in town.  One such example was a meeting with officials of the City of Louisa Center of Community Development to acquire building permits for upcoming construction.  As I approached the brick façade full of Professionals and Officials, I experienced a slight twinge of apprehension—in general, I take pride in the maintenance (or lack thereof) of a less stereotypical, less polished appearance.   In this instance though, I worried that my appearance was conspicuously ungainly and would be met with appalled stares.

After such a formal office setting, I decided to do the least socially acceptable task of the trip next—dumpstering.  As I hoisted myself inside the Food Lion dumpsters (in broad daylight, mind you), I could feel the airs of the well behaved being purged out of me with every morsel of food I reclaimed.

Another quasi-socially unacceptable task that I’ve recently incorporated into my town trip routine entails checking in with local restaurants to see if they have lidded buckets or other useful tupperware that can be used as seed storage containers.  Although it took a little while to establish myself and my initially odd request, now most of the restaurants in Louisa know me by name and often have several containers waiting for me upon my arrival.  This also provides opportunity to fulfill a secret motive of my own—initiating pleasant and friendly conversation with locals about their lives and experiences, and having an opportunity to talk a little about Acorn.  Without cross-communication between the various members of our extended community, stereotypes and preconceived notions are left to thrive: The free-love, tree hugging hippy queers and their scary cult rituals vs. the backward anti-environment, anti-queer conservatives immersed in mainstream consumerist dystrophy.  Of course I’m not expecting myself or others to change their world view after a mere exchange of pleasantries; my highest aspirations are to understand where people are coming from and vice versa.  One day, as I walked across the parking lot to the next restaurant, a bumper sticker caught my eye: “I’ll take my GOD, my Freedom, my money, and my guns.  You can keep your ‘change.’”

Although I fancy myself as an organized, responsible tripper, there have been times when this wasn’t entirely so.  One such time was when the trip request sheet—the holy central organizing principle of the tripper—vanished from my possession early on in the trip.  I had already driven to the next town by the time I realized it.  I called the last place I remembered having it at—The Louisa Library—and sure enough, there it lay, abandoned on the counter.  I was mortified.  However, in a stroke of good luck, the front desk person who answered the phone was an x-communitarian herself, and was familiar with our tripper system and the invaluable content that the List provided.  She volunteered to read off the requests in order to save me a trip back, an offer which I gladly accepted.  She painstakingly relayed all the details of the list to me, down to the unusual names of the requestees.  “This one’s from…Merdock…yes, it says gameday, whatever that means…”  I quickly confirmed that I understood the request, chuckling to myself.  A little further down was a request to return something at a hardware store.  “this one’s from…Night Shade? It says return the box in the bag.  Location, your rectum.  Hmm…”  At that point we both busted up laughing, I apologizing profusely and she reassuring me that she wasn’t offended.

After a productive town trip, I glean satisfaction in bustling back to the commune with a plethora of desired items, each one (hopefully!) precisely what was envisioned upon request.  As I distribute the books, food, alcohol, snacks, hardware, and household items to their respective places/people, I bask in feeling accomplished and important.

Blair Mountain is the site of the 1921 historic battle between coal companies and pro-union coal miners.  With between 10,000 and 15,000 participants clashing against heavily armed police and coal operator backed union busters, it was one of the largest armed insurrections in United States history.

In 2009, Blair Mountain was enlisted as a historical site, which contemporary coal companies instantly sought to reverse.  The political and legal clout of coal companies quickly had it unlisted and seized control of the property, slating it as the sight of a future mountain top removal operation.

In response, a coalition of anti-mountaintop removal groups organized a reenactment of the historical march of Blair Mountain with hopes of raising awareness of the historical and environmental richness of Blair Mountain.  Since the full length march was scheduled to take five days, us Acornistas weren’t able to get away from the garden and business that long, but we were able to meet up with the marchers for the final day of rallying and marching.

To make the five and a half drive there, we left Friday after lunch to get there in time to set up tents.  In order to encourage an early bedtime (we were forewarned that we would all be woken up at 5:30 AM), dinner and speakers for that night were combined.  My favorite speech from the night will probably be available soon–stay posted for a link.

The food tent Friday night

True to their word, with a bit of overzealous anxiety, someone was outside our tent at the ungodly hour of 5:15 AM, mechanically saying, “Wake up” every 30 seconds or so.

Our groggy group of campers

Later on that morning, all the marchers and ralliers convened in one spot for more speakers, music, food, and whatever preparations we needed for the march up to Blair Mountain–sunscreen, lots of water, signs to hold, and precise instruction as to what to do if we were arrested (the final mile to the battle sight itself is property of the coal companies).

Gathering for the final leg of the march

rallying

banners at the rally

more banners

more banners

By mid-afternoon, all 800 marchers were all lined up and ready to go. As we neared the edge of the property we’d been on for the rally, everyone started chanting, “Stay on the pavement, DON’T TOUCH THE GRASS!!, STAY ON THE PAVEMENT, DON’T TOUCH THE GRASS!!”  Although I initially didn’t know why, it soon became apparent that the road was heading right through the residential area of coal miner families, and that they were frothing at the mouth for any legal opportunity to make our lives difficult, trespassing one inch onto their lawns being their most hopeful possibility.   A few pick-up trucks full of “Friends of Coal” blared country music, most prominently “Kiss my Country Ass.”  A women in the yelled, “But I would never kiss yours, you probably ain’t washed it in a week!”

We proceeded the grueling march up the mountain (read, up), sometimes being forced completely outside the white line into a single file line by a fleet of cop cars.  When we got to the private road that marked the entry to the historic Blair Mountain battle field, all those who couldn’t risk arrest stayed behind.  The rest of us proceeded on, visibly quickening our pace to the yelling, “YOU ARE NOW TRESPASSING, AN OFFENSE PUNISHABLE BY THE LAW.”   We poured over and around the gate that blocked the road, waving our signs and spontaneously erupting into cheers, chants, and song.

We passed the sight of a recent strip mine, for which we all took a moment of silence.

Soon the cops arrived on 4-wheelers and demanded that we leave the premises.

Cops enter the scene

the cops

cops telling us to leave

We hadn’t posted our signs yet, so despite being threatened with arrest, some sunk their signs into the earth, one getting arrested for it.

planting our signs on the way out

New High Tunnel at acorn.  Just finished the roll up sides.  We had some problems with these sides blowing in the wind and tearing through straps, which are intended to hold them down.  This time we used some old drip tape, attached by washers and screws.  We will see how it holds up to the high winds.  Now we have to figure out why the roll up sides collect water…when rolled up, with the roll being on the inside of the tunnel.  Now on to finishing the removable east and west sides.  More information to come.

The first signs of spring are upon us.  Daffodil flowers are blooming, warmer weather has come, and we are very excited to have our first set of ducks.  Cute ducklings, that will follow folks around.  These ducks will live at our newly restored pond, and acorn will enjoy their services.  Our population of animals is ever increasing: 10 ducks, 2 goats, 20 hens, 2 roosters, 2 dogs, 3 cats, and 1 guinea pig.  I hope to see meat rabbits in the future of acorn.  There is also talk of dairy goats, a Nubian breed. Photos by Cora.