Within the hills and dales of northeast Missouri are far fewer miles of paved roads than rivers and creeks. Signs at one-lane bridges warn of flooding, and roadside markers are positioned to measure high water, foot by foot. <\/p>\n
These are not comforting details to notice when driving under a flash flood watch. The occasional farm or town seems miles apart from the next, but my final turn onto a lonely gravel road with lush vegetation arrived before the rain. <\/p>\n
The solar panels, thigh-high grasses, shed with bicycles and one-of-a-kind buildings some a patchwork of materials were not a surprise. Then came The Milkweed Mercantile, which when I visited sold Walla Walla Onion Relish by the jar, Farmhouse Ale by the tap and four cozy, homey rooms without frills by the night. On Thursdays, a crowd gathers for thin-crust pizzas, topped with organic mozzarella and feta cheeses, both made within this unusual village. <\/p>\n
The two-story Milkweed building with screened porch looks conventional, but under the lime plaster is straw bale insulation. Add energy from solar and wind power, a rainwater cistern, composting toilet and note to not use hair dryers. <\/p>\n
We dont have nearly enough doilies for the B&B crowd, jokes Alline Anderson. <\/p>\n
She and Kurt Kessner built and opened this business in 2010, one year after moving from Berkeley, Calif. They are a part of the 260-acre Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage, whose 40 residents are toddlers to retirees who opt to live simply, peacefully, compactly and off the grid. In the mix are global travelers and Ph.D.s, farmers and teachers, midwives and mediators. <\/p>\n
The community was established 20 years ago and has since gained international attention. The Milkweed is owned and operated by eight of the Rabbits, as the intentional community refers to itself. <\/p>\n
Dancing Rabbit is the largest of three such communities in Scotland County, population 4,800, just south of the border with Iowa and 40 miles west of the Mississippi River. Just six of Missouris 114 counties have a smaller population and only the county seat, Memphis, contains more than 1,000 residents in these nearly 440 square miles. <\/p>\n
The Milkweeds guest rooms are named after environmentalists Aldo Leopold, Wallace Stegner, Rachel Carson and David Brower. There is Wi-Fi but no television, ceiling fans but no A\/C. Add a shared bath and communal dining. <\/p>\n
Its not for everybody, Anderson says. We make people eat with us and actually talk to us. People usually come because they want to change their eco footprint or make a change in their life but are not real sure what it is. <\/p>\n
The inns caf does not accommodate drop-in visitors but feeds overnight guests at a long table and single seating. Whats for dinner depends upon the pantry, garden harvest and foraging. Cornbread might arrive in a cast-iron skillet. Zucchini and just-shucked peas might be mixed with beet greens and fresh mint during late spring. Decadent treats include gooey cinnamon rolls for breakfast. <\/p>\n
Repeat visitors include folk\/pop singer Kristen Graves, a Green Bay native known nationally for her music, activism and humanitarian work. Visiting Dancing Rabbit will expand your imagination and open your eyes to different ways to live in the same world, she says. There are examples of ingenuity everywhere you look. <\/p>\n
The place serves as an environmental inspiration, not as a way to shame people who are new to learning about conservation, but as a way to meet people where theyre at with discovery in order to help them learn new and different ways that they can live a more sustainable life. <\/p>\n
Nik Garvoille of Spring Green, an artist and graphic designer, arrived as a visitor and stayed for years, which is not unprecedented. Travelers come for a tour, an overnight, multi-day workshops (yoga or writing to food preservation or permaculture design) and multi-week immersions in the lifestyle (through an internship or work exchange). <\/p>\n
We dont pretend to have all the answers, but we live lighter ecologically, Anderson says. Brooke Jones of Dallas, an anthropologist, made a Dancing Rabbit energy audit her thesis topic in 2013 and stayed until this year, long after completing her project. <\/p>\n
I expected culture shock but didnt feel it until I went home for a visit, says Jones, who concluded Dancing Rabbits resource consumption is 10 percent of the national average. The community exists because West Coast eco activists wanted to live what they preached but couldnt afford to do it with California prices and building codes. So they formed a nonprofit community land trust in 1993, but a lack of income sharing means this is not a commune. <\/p>\n
We really had to create our own culture and entertainment, Alline says, of the early years. Today that means Tuesday potlucks with a neighboring farm, Wednesday song circles and occasional no-talent shows. Touring musicians, in addition to Graves, pass through. So do organized bike rides, like the Big BAM (Bicycle Across Missouri). <\/p>\n
Danielle Williams, executive director of the Center for Sustainable and Cooperative Culture (a nonprofit within the village), arranges programing there and online. One overriding message: Living a sustainable life doesnt mean a life of deprivation. <\/p>\n
Reality TV producers have called, but the Dancing Rabbit is wary. Its a very difficult balance between living our lives and feeling like a Disney exhibit, Anderson says. She and Kessner this year expanded Milkweed Mercantile ownership to include six other Rabbits because wed like to have that simple country life that we keep hearing about, especially as they near retirement age. <\/p>\n
Your column feedback and ideas are welcome. Write to Midwest Features, PO Box 259623, Madison, WI 53725 or mary@roadstraveled.com<\/a>. <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Excerpt from: <\/p>\n Roads Traveled: Off the grid: Living a sustainable life in Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage - Kenosha News<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Within the hills and dales of northeast Missouri are far fewer miles of paved roads than rivers and creeks. Signs at one-lane bridges warn of flooding, and roadside markers are positioned to measure high water, foot by foot. These are not comforting details to notice when driving under a flash flood watch Continue reading