The Web We Weave

I needed a sled, and ours is deep in the pile that I crammed into our tiny storage unit last May. I turned to a neighbor for help. Walking 4 doors up the street bearing bagels rescued from a local baker's dumpster, I presented my dilemma and was aptly rewarded.

On the return, sled in hand, I passed my next door neighbor and another neighbor hoisting either side of a jug of mead on its way to be bottled. This mead contained a good deal of honey from our bees and will grace our Christmas eve table for the next several years. I waved them a hello and stopped off at the neighbor's house across the street to pick up one more sled. A stack of plates and jars were ready for my pickup, too, on their return from transporting soups and baked goods to our "extended family" across the way.

Inhale, exhale.

Another Family School parent who lives nearby became interested in buying goat milk to turn into yoghurt. I called my goat milk connection. She said she'd love the support, but being 70 miles from town, she is unable to supply the milk on her Saturday drop. If only I could come get it on Wednesday, she wished. I'll take the Wednesday milk, I told her, to make my yoghurt from. It will stay fresh for weeks once cultured. My drinking milk I will take from the Friday batch.

The farmer was delighted. She has more financial support now, and even more openings for her Saturday milk list. She's offering me bits of winter squash, chicken feet (for stock) and other bonus goodies to show her appreciation. I am making yoghurt for my new mom-friend, and when I have a sick kid, she picks up the other in her minivan to carpool to school.

I like it.