BREAKFAST
Glenn knocked on the guest bedroom door at about 8:30 am and asked me if I was ready. I was. I'd taken a shower, swallowed my blood pressure pill and stuffed my backpack. The blanket I laid over Phoenix still smelled a little bit like him. I know this sounds gross perhaps, but I don't think I will wash it for a little while. I use it as a pillow when sleeping outside and I want to feel like I'm still close to him.
I brought my stuff out through the driveway door and met Glenn there. Throwing it in the back of the truck I climbed in and buckled up. As far as I knew he was going to give me a ride to McDonald's where I could catch up with writing, then walk on from there. As far as *he* knew we were about to have an interesting day and I was going to spend another night. We hadn't discussed any of this with each other in any solid way.
As we turned out of his road onto Rt. 17 he asked what I like to eat for breakfast. I paused for a moment and then said, "Oh, the usual, maybe an omelette." He said nothing more about breakfast as we talked more about the town. I noticed that we drove by McDonald's and headed out to The Eatin' Place, located on 1450 CW Harry Blvd (hours: Monday - Saturday, 6 am - 8 pm and Sunday 6 am to 3 pm, phone: 967-0272), right there in Houston. We parked and he led me in to the little diner-style restaurant. Inside were what I assumed to be the regular patrons. He said hi to each person as we found our way to a booth by the window.
A nice waitress walked up and poured us some coffee. He knew exactly what he wanted and I chose the sausage and cheese omelette with home fries and a biscuit. He got two eggs over easy, toast, bacon (I think?), biscuits and gravy (a dish available at every restaurant I've seen in Missouri, even McDonald's--and not something that is found in Maine).
Waiting for our food, we talked much about business. He told me more about selling cars and other investments he had made over the years, including an easement on the hospital road that he had quite a time selling. He mentioned his 248 acre farm just outside of town that he had had big plans for but was reluctantly now looking to sell.
The price is $510,000, which is $2,056 an acre--a STEAL for such good land. The land is even more desirable because of the roads he bulldozed all around it, the brush and trees he cleared, the miles of high quality fence that he installed and the literally millions of tons of rock and stone that exists on it. The rock alone could be sold for hundreds of thousands of dollars if the right market was developed. But like any of us, he can't do EVERYTHING. He already does as much as he can possibly handle. And the land sits waiting for his or someone's attention.
The breakfast arrived and we dug in. My eggs were perfect. There was cheese in the omelette with the tasty sausage, and then another piece of cheese draped over the outside, just for good measure. The hash browns were cooked just like I like them, crispy and brown on the outside and well cooked on the inside, not too chewy. The biscuit - served with real butter - was gorgeous. It was large, moist and fluffy, but held together well when I heaped butter on it. It took me four cuts to eat the whole thing.
Glenn said, "I'll take ya out to farm after we leave here and drive ya around." This sounded good to me. I'm always into seeing rural land - as I had had the privilege of doing with RhonnaLeigh's land out in Monroe County a week and a half before.
THE FARM LAND
We finished up and Glenn paid, of course. We hopped in the truck and took off down to the road leading out of town. Only a few miles went by when we arrived at his road off to the right, one that he had offered to smooth out and maintain for the county. It was nice and flat, well packed and easy to drive down. We went a little way and then took a right up to a very large double sided cattle gate; big enough to have a large truck go out one side while a large truck goes in the other side.
Now, big rocks are a bit of a passion for Glenn. He's kind of crazy for them. The night before, when we visited the Bark Plaza Pet Hotel and Tastc Shelter, he showed me several very large rocks that were transported over from his property here. One naturally looks like both a St. Barnard's head and a buffalo. They weren't shaped by hand they simply looked a certain way so he used them. All I can say about those rocks is that they must have been a challenge to transport, weighing several tons each. He also had a stone wall constructed behind the pet hotel that utilized many rocks weighing over a ton (2,000+ lbs).
Now I got to see where those rocks came from. There is a vein of limestone and other kinds of rock running right through his property. With plenty more rock available, one could make some good money excavating it.
We drove all around the many winding roads. Deer frequently are found lying in the tall grass of certain spots Glenn knows well. We drove past a large 25 acre valley that Glenn plans to turn into a lake. He wants to erect a dam. It would only take a few days to fill the area, and when it's done it would be upwards of 30 feet deep. Populating it with fish would be easy if the pond in his yard is any indication. There, he has thousands of fish, some as large as 50 lbs.
All around the property are small fields and groves of trees. It must be beautiful in the summer time. The property would make a great campground or church camp. I could see a New Englander saving up extra money and buying it as a resort, hunting ground or big retirement retreat.
When the tour of the land was done, he told me we should go check out the house project that the New Life community was working on. I agreed and we headed out and down the road to the convergence of the Piney Rivers. On the way there, we passed over one of the highest elevations in the area. I could see down into the rolling, storybook-like valleys of fields, hills, farms and woods. It was quite impressive.
THE HOUSE AND THE STONE
When we got to the New Life house "the Russians" were working hard on the patio stones. I also took lots of pictures of their other work. They have a very characteristic style to their architectural forms. They do a kind of dry stone work that really captures the color and shape of the rocks they use. They are masters of masonry. The house is flanked with large stone arches and squared-off columns.
We went inside and saw that they'd already done the floors and walls, highlighted with wide marble tiles in the bathrooms, fat molding around the edges of the ceilings and iridescent small tile work that I really loved in the kitchen. Their attention to detail spared no space. This is something we would see later when we visited their compound. In the house - which used to be an army barracks - between the rooms they had cut bricks in half and made arches around the doorways, highlighted by elevated keystones in the centers, giving a kind of Old World quality to the interior.
When we returned out into the front yard one of the workers led me down the back steps to the river below so that I could film it all. The steps were made of large uncut rocks. He told me that the idea was to make it look like the stairway had always been there. And it really looked that way. A wide wall ran the length of the stairs and huge blocks made up each step. Trees that were jutting beside these stairs were allowed to grow up right next to them, as the wall ended where each tree grew and began again afterward.
Part way down the stairway was a separate set of stairs that divided off and ran down to another part of the river. At the base was a thirty foot, completely flat area of rock formation where people could just jump off into the clean river if they wanted. The river - at the point where it passed the house - was about ten feet deep, and I could easily see the bottom through the crystal clear water.
The task had been a momentous one, but these guys were completely equal to the work they'd done. They were young, strong men; men with a real purpose. They fit stone together in an organic way, finding and fitting each piece not by planning, but by artistic sense. The art of their labor was fantastically intricate. Touring this fine structure and its associated yard was a real treat for me.
For twenty years or so, I'd dreamed of building a stone house. Now, after seeing what was possible, I think I might revisit the idea when I return to Maine. My property plan could easily be modified to replace the wooden cottage with stone. And, now having been inspired by New Life's designs, I think I would do something much like what they did, not only for the cottage (please see my SelfSustainingProperty.blogspot.com blog) but for the landscaping as well; integrating thick stone walls, paths, steps, patios and planters.
While we were preparing to leave and drive to the New Life compound, a young gentleman named Alex (former leader of the New Life project there in Missouri, a Russian Jew with a thirteen-year complete recovery success story) showed up with his associate, Stan, a very intelligent and mild mannered young man who would serve as Alex's expert interpreter for the remainder of our visit that day.
Glenn talked out some business with Alex - who did speak fairly good English when he had to - and then we all got in our vehicles and headed off to the New Life compound.
It was a relatively short drive. And along the way Glenn slowed down to point out a VERY large boulder (on the order of twenty tons!) on the side of the road; one that he'd had his eye for a long time. He'd formulating ways that he might transport it, but was still trying to figure out if it exceeded the weight limit of the Missouri road system. It was one big mother of a rock. And, through the edges of the woods line he pointed out a whole vein of similar sized rocks of the same kind. The "Russians" (as Glenn called them) were patiently waiting behind Glenn's truck for us to get moving again which we presently did.
NEW LIFE USA
Turning into the road that led to the New Life compound and driving to the front gate I saw more great land. New Life USA had chosen a great tract on a hillside location to build their compound.
After we drove through the gate and visually cleared by Andrey, the current security man on duty and - as I would later discover - bee keeper, we parked in front of the main building. Alex told me that they had only purchased the property about eight years ago, and when they began constructing the buildings for it only one small wooden structure stood there. In that time they had quarried and moved stone to many different areas of the property. The work on buildings coincided with the work on the landscaping. They have been adding and expanding ever since.
We first walked down near the guard/gate house, and there at the bottom of the stairway was a 30 foot diameter circle of ancient stone. They had crafted a compass star into it with very cleverly honed darker pieces (the arrows of the directions, and sub-directions). Beside it was a pretty little spring-fed pond, with water clearer than the river had been. Beyond was another branch of the Piney River, bordered on either side by an annual flood plain varying in width from several yards to about thirty yards.
Glenn knew this land as well as New Life did, having been there during some of the most important stages of development. He cleared land and made several ponds on the property with his bulldozer. He'd met these folks a few years before and had been a regular visitor and consultant there many, many times. He'd attended their church meeting, seen them witness for each other, watched them have fun and play music. It was obvious to me that they had a deep respect for this local man who had taken such a caring interest in their project and been so helpful in building this place. And, he was warmly fond of them, having known most of the graduates and workers.
Men and women were given the chance to get clean - for free - by working in the program and its associated ministry. It is a fourteen month program of strict work and fellowship. No smoking is allowed there, no cell phones either. The temptation to begin using again is just simply too strong to risk allowing these things to take place. Not all participants are successfully reformed. But the ones who are make outstanding citizens; some going back to Russia and its neighboring states and some remaining here in the US. Alex himself is married with children and trying to become a US citizen. We could use such capable, intelligent, hardworking and upright people like him here. And, I hope to see more of them stay.
We walked back up the small hill and entered the main building. It was cozy, with couches on the left side of the room for relaxing and taking breaks. A small PA system and mixing board stood at the ready for their entertainment purposes. In the hallway leading down to the restrooms were six large photo collages utterly filled with pictures of the dozens of participants, their visiting families and many children. Glenn spent a long time pointing out and naming people he knew. The Russians helped him a bit with pronunciation, but he was quite familiar with each one, describing their personalities and where they were now.
We checked out the kitchen where the cook was preparing a taco salad and other items for lunch. The group struggles to get enough protein and other food items. Glenn provided several turkeys and all the side dishes for this last Thanksgiving meal, something the group really appreciated and devoured joyfully. He has also brought many deer during hunting season and contribute food whenever he can. People can't work if they can't eat. It would be nice to see MUCH more US money flowing into this organization to support the good work they do for the men and women who are part of this program, so that they might not have to worry about such basic needs as food. They would be self-sufficient if they could just get ahead. Part of this growth has to do with related industries and manufacturing done in the compound. One of these growing practices is a very successful aquaculture program. And that is what we visited next.
Our small group made its way along the path and up to the greenhouse where we met Dustin, its keeper and gardener. Dustin and I hit it off immediately. My fondness and experience with growing plants fit right into his experience with the closed cycle of the fish-to-plants-to-fish loop he had perfected. As we strolled through the many plants and substantial fish tanks, he explained the process. The fish (tilapia, in this case, a fast growing and tasty species that can provide a great amount of protein) essentially poops in the highly-aerated water of the tanks. This matter falls to the bottom and is drawn out and into the irrigation system. The fishy water is pumped up and flooded for short periods into the extensive trays of seedlings and adult plants (including carrots, tomatoes, peas, radishes and other vegetables).
The plants clean the water and produce a kind of green-colored bacteria that separates out nitrogen (an element that plants can readily utilize to grow quickly). This natural filtering system allows the water to then be reused by the fish. Three growth stages of fish are constantly kept. The fries (baby fish) are in standard home-style glass aquariums. Were they to be introduced into the big tanks they would be immediately consumed by the adult fish. There is another couple of tanks where mid sized fish (about six to eight inches long) grow and become strong enough to swim with the adults. Tilapia are omnivores (eating both plant and animal matter), but they really prefer the food pellets that Dustin is constantly scooping into their tanks. they never seem to be satisfied with what they've already eaten and ravenously much every pellet that is available. Some of the adults were quite large (up to eighteen inches long and some nearly ten pounds).
The air was thick and humid, warm and tropical feeling. not much electricity was used. The heat was from a big wood furnace, and the multitude of large windows allowed plenty of light energy to penetrate the structure. The building itself was about thirty feet by forty feet, with lower edges and a higher central roof section that had adjustable windows able to be opened and closed to regulate air temperature and freshness.
I had seen vertical tomato plants before at Pine Land Farms in New Gloucester, Maine, and Dustin's were on their way to the ceiling. Tomato plants really can be grown like vines. They can reach heights of fifteen feet or more. It is an efficient way to grow them, especially in a greenhouse like the one we were in. Please stay tuned for a video of all of this (as well as the other areas of the compound). I could have stayed and worked there with Dustin - who had taught himself how to do his job - all day. I found the process fascinating and now that I've seen it up close, I believe I would be able to reproduce it on my own future property. It is just one more ecologically sound and nutritionally rich way to have both meat protein and all the benefits of vegetables. Even in a Maine winter I believe this system could be maximized to last indefinitely. Self sustaining food with a perpetually efficient production loop, and no waste.
I really was becoming fantastically impressed with what these guys were doing here. We said goodbye to Dustin and hopped into our vehicles to drive out past the fields to the bee keeping area. Now THIS reminded me of all the charm one might associate with traditional Eastern European culture. Inside a sprawling and fabricated gateway sat thirty beehive boxes. The Russians call them "families."
Stepping inside the gate we walked up to the cute, highly decorative and detailed little house where we met Andrey again (the guard we saw when we drove in). He unlocked the door and we all stepped in. Here was another process I'd only ever read about or seen in videos. Now I could see it up close and speak with an expert.
With Stan interpreting, Andrey explained the various aspects of honey production. In the spring, in order to give the bees something to adhere their wax and honeycomb to, ten inch by fourteen inch wooden frames with tight metal wires spaced threaded through them and spaced out at about two inches are prepared with flower stems weaved in between. Not many are needed as the bees will do the work of reinforcement, building their wax combs across the entire frame. Andrey said that they were switching over to metal wire from nylon because they discovered that they could run a small electric current through the wire, creating enough heat to let the combs literally melt off. I though this was extraordinarily ingenious.
Bees are much like the people nation states in their behavior between their families. Of the thirty families on this property, ten had gone to war with each other, each family wiping out another, then turning to fight the subsequent victors of other battles, until they had all obliterated each other. Interesting isn't it? Mutually Assured Destruction (M.A.D.). Remember those days? What made this especially poignant and deliciously ironic was the fact that a free Russian was standing here - in America - and telling me of these futile and population decimating honey bee struggles. Andrey smiled, with his kind eyes ablaze after. I smiled back, fully appreciating this story with all of it connotations. The compound produces enough honey to sell. And, apparently it is of a very, very high quality.
Saying goodbye to Andrey and the bees, we drove back to the women's and visitors dorm. It was temporarily vacant at that time, so Stan and I were able to take a quick look at the rooms. They were nice, comfortable and large. He showed me the laundry room which had a wall mural painted by some of the women. He also showed me a small classroom with desks like a high school might have and the children's playroom where the last group to be there had left a few uplifting messages on the white board (shown in a picture I took, now in my Manifest Destiny Photo album here at Facebook). The visit to this building was a short one. While we talked outside for a little while, Glenn pointed up at the roof which had been tar tiled with two different colored tiles, giving it an almost camouflaged appearance. "They use what they can get. They had two sets of different tiles and they used them." Again, no waste. A building that looked like a storage shed was similarly constructed with multi-colored metal roof-like panels. I didn't think it looked recycled. I thought it just looked artistic. It was probably meant to be both.
Last on our tour of the New Life compound was the sauna (or "banya" in Russian). Down by the far side of the river stood a small wooden building with a richly paneled interior fireplace room. The builders had made everything from the panels to the fireplace and mantle, to the highly decorative steel and stone wall. In the very back was a steam room entirely boarded in the traditional style. The stone patio led around back to the firewood pile and the door to the stove. firewood is burned to heat the smooth stones and water is ladled onto the hot surfaces of the stones to produce steam. Russians have a long tradition of bath houses and banyas stretching back to pre-Roman Empire days. It seemed both fitting and a requirement that they had one on the property. Alex, Stan and Glenn told me that on Sundays (their only day of rest) they would gather at the banya to relax and socialize. The idea is to get as hot as possible and then to run out onto the big stone terrace and jump into the cold river. I could just picture the scene from their descriptions.
THE JOURNEY *HERE*
We stood and talked for a while there outside the building; three men who were already good friends and this stranger (me), who now considered them all as my friends. I was overwhelmed, *positively*. I peered back at the building proudly standing on their hillside and turned over the experiences of the day in mind. How else would I have ever known that a place like this even existed, had I not decided to walk to Houston the day before, slept by a cow pasture, found an injured dog, stopped Jack (the driver who called the shelter), met Rita (its President), had her introduce me to her husband, Glenn, toured the town, visited the very shelter where that dog had received such kindness and care, stayed with these two wonderful people overnight, and met a group of recovering Russians? It was the kind of thing you can't even conjure up as fiction. I think it would be - literally - unbelievable if it didn't actually happen. But, it DID happen.
This all started in Boston. I had stood in a rainy doorway, unable to sleep or even sit down for four hours, unconvinced that what I was trying to do would even be possible. I remember very well being cold and soaked to the bone, stooped over my precious backpack, and thinking...
Who exactly AM I? What could I possibly be attempting to do? I want to get right back on that train and go home... But... I can't. There is no home to go back to. I am stuck, alone. No one knows exactly where I am. Besides two members of my family and a handful of friends, no one really cares about me. Am I going to die? Why was I ever even born? Has my life been just a tragedy? Spark--where are you??
Then, the next day, pulling all that I am or have ever been together, for one last time; when my sanity was at the edge of the pit and slipping over and into it--with my soul chained to the dead weight of the darkness below, I made a Free Will Choice--the most important one of my entire life.
I began to simply wallk. I laid my very life on the road that my feet were touching. And said to the Spark: I surrender myself to You. It was at that moment that the chain was loosed. My mind cleared. I felt strengthened and completely permeated with a supernatural confidence. It was only then, from within, that I heard: I AM HERE.
Sometimes when you lose everything, you are actually gaining...Everything.
Love to ALL.
[Please note that there are dozens and dozens of photos of this experiences, plus videos, at my Facebook pages. I will try to add more pictures here when I can. Please Friend me at Facebook for more!]
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