It's Raining, and the Dump's Open Tomorrow!

You take your pleasures where you can when you live out here in the country, folks, and there's been no shortage of pleasures lately.
The rain today slowed things down a bit. and allowed me to load up the van with garbage. The dump's only open three days a week in these parts, and finding the time to gather garbage and recyclables together, load them into a vehicle and actually drive to the dump can be a challange. Today, everything has fallen together just right, and I am a happy man, sitting here at my keyboard and thinking about all that garbage sitting in my van.
That's just a bit of local color I thought I'd offer to those of you less familiar with life out here on the farm. It may be that someday, when I'm old and haggard and sharing my wisdom with youngsters who seek me out, that garbage routine tales will be what interests them most. It's hard to tell. They may be more interested in what life was like back when we used to burn gasoline, or back before you get get organic produce in places other than Walmart. but that seems doubtful. No, it's tales of getting to the dump that will hold their interest.
We pulled two of our favorite resources of information down off the bookshelf the other day, and were struck by their differences in tone and personality, and their similarities in tone and personalities. It all started when we were looking for sausage recipes, but that's another story. When looking for vital, life saving information, we turn to Carla Emory's Encyclopedia of Country Living or to Eliot Wigginton's Foxfire Books. (Neither let us down on sausage counts.)
One is transcriptions of tales told by haggard old mountain folks, and the other is a back to the land primer for the granola set. I'll leave it to you to figure out which is which. The subject matter covered in both books is remarkably similiar, as is their effectiveness. Moreso, I find my motives for turning to either tome to be identical. Basically, there's something I don't know how to do, and maybe there's someone who does.
I'm not intimidated by planting by the moonsigns, or skinning a bear, or making soy milk. I fear not deworming a goat or drawing water from a well. All I have to do is turn to the index.