About The New AgrarianI have been planting content here off and on since 2002, with occasional attempts at cultivation and pruning. All of it swirls around more or less agrarian ideas: food and agriculture, including some practical things, but also craft, community, technology, embodiment, history, sustainability, nature, and place. As you might guess, I’ve changed my mind a few times on all these topics since I started a decade ago. I cultivate, but not always in neat rows. Read my Explanation and Apologia to learn more.
The fine printThe New Agrarian is copyright ©2002–2016 by David Walbert. All rights reserved, but I'm generally pretty nice about sharing, so feel free to ask.
Tag Archives: poetry
Despite preemptive school closings and dire warnings of Black Ice, only a dusting of snow fell here last night — not even enough to cover the ground. A good snow, glistening contentedly in the morning sun, reflecting the clean clear … Continue reading
From the high ridge the river is placid, dark, smooth, its motion undetectable except by implication of the muddy-pale passage my analytical self knows to be rapids. It winds through the landscape, around unperturbed boulders, past trees positioned as dramatic … Continue reading
If you’re new to this, read the Cheap Poetry Manifesto. Scattered on the path, the maple blossoms Drops of blood shed by the spring’s new birthing. The rain will wash it clean, baptize the season. The infant leaves, so pale … Continue reading
It was a slow winter for poetry, but here’s the roundup. If you’re new to this, read the Cheap Poetry Manifesto. The decorations are put away in pieces and in bitses but the holiday ain’t over ’til we eat the … Continue reading
Damn you, sirs! My vote is not my voice! —He cried in futile fury at his email— As if for quadrennia I silent slumbered And woke to make myself a number! A vote is a mere puny choice Of wan … Continue reading
A carpet of decay, as finely woven As any ancient treasure dearly bought, And lovelier for being more ephemeral: All the artisans of Kublai Khan In all the workshops of a mythic continent Could not invent geometry so fair As … Continue reading
Its ruby goblet dry, the summer flies On wings that beat the hastening pace of time But pauses here for one last sip. Remember Well this welcome banquet. Come again. You lie! My thoughts cannot be captured: They prowl the … Continue reading
Summer is a most untidy guest, A vacation rental every landlord dreads: Crumbs all over the floor, attracting pests, Insects and mice of which we can’t be rid Without some icy extermination. Look At all this filth! This vile disgusting … Continue reading
Last Monday was my daughter’s birthday, and the Birthday Troll came again this year, in the night, to steal her presents, hide them in the woods, and leave riddles as clues to their whereabouts. He’s like Santa Claus for curmudgeons, … Continue reading
On a gorgeous April Wednesday I am filling in as substitute homeschool teacher. We do arithmetic; we do a language lesson about adverbs and Emily Dickinson. Then—did I mention the day is gorgeous? That the air through the window is crisp and fills the lungs with hope and delight? That the cardinals are courting round the bay tree and a wren is chirping from the buckthorn? That the sky is blue, the dandelions gold, the violets… er, violet? All this is so, and the substitute teacher, less inspired by whatever lies in the plan book before him than by the season swiftly unfolding outside the window, calls an audible…. Continue reading