Julian SmitBonfires, maple syrup, goats, and a bratwurst that changed my life. On why showing up is the most important off-grid skill nobody talks about.
There’s a version of off-grid living that’s essentially a bunker with better aesthetics. Self-sufficient, self-contained, and quietly suspicious of everyone within a ten-kilometre radius.
That’s not what we’re doing here.
This past fall, Josh at Evermeadow Farm hosted a Guy Fawkes night bonfire. Fire, neighbours, kids running around in the dark, and somewhere in the mix — the best bratwurst I have ever eaten. I’m not being casual about this. Evermeadow’s burra wurst is the kind of thing that makes you reconsider your relationship with grocery stores entirely.
Here’s the thing about these events: none of them are incidental. They’re the connective tissue of a community. They’re how you find out who your neighbours actually are, what they’re growing, what they’re building, and what they know that you don’t. In a city, you can opt out of that and still function fine. Out here, the community is part of the infrastructure.
Which brings me to the number that stopped me recently: between Evermeadow’s farm and our own garden, close to 90% of our meals over the summer came from within a blast radius of where we live. Not a supply chain. Not a grocery app. A farm down the road and a vegetable bed out back.
That’s not a statistic. That’s a way of life.
If you’re making the move to off-grid or rural living — or thinking about it — here’s the advice I’d give that doesn’t appear in any prep guide: show up. Go to the bonfire. Buy the bratwurst. Learn who Josh is. The land will teach you a lot. The people on it will teach you the rest.
[Next: on technology, rebellion, and why I’ve become convinced that choosing the old way is the most radical thing you can do.]
Julian Smit
