fantasy of the day:naturalistic & agricultural feedism
picture a house in the country that we share, not too far from town, but enough to be secluded by the quiet and stillness of the forest.
a safe place just on the outskirts of the rest of the world, not far from community, not far from fun, where the both of us are free to make a living off of our artistic endeavors. where we can indulge in private.
I’m in love with the area. every day I go on long, blissful walks. and any time I leave, I always return home having foraged nuts, berries, mushrooms and herbs, bursting with excitement to share the savor of my findings with you. there’s something so special about what’s in that basket - everything I collect for you is fresh and grown right from our property, and your indulgence is just a part of the natural cycle.
I make you all sorts of treats from the morsels I dig from the earth, just because I can! waking you up to a stack of acorn flour pancakes in the morning, drizzled with leftover syrup tapped and boiled from the maple trees last winter. at dinner, I serve you a thick, hearty plate of spring pasta topped with olive oil and pesto made from nettles, as well as the morel mushrooms I’d been saving for a special occasion (but just couldn’t wait for you to taste them). for dessert, a wild strawberry shortcake all to yourself.
each day I prepare you plentiful, earthy, soul-filling meals with healing ingredients. every bite is packed with my effort and thoughts of you.
you’ll have pumpkin bread, apple dumplings and pie, picked from the apple tree in our back yard. chocolate + raspberry shakes, straight from our bushes! pastries baked with the eggs our chickens lay, butter, milk and cheese fresh from the market. the abundance of it all! it’s enough to fill you up a size.
evenings you find me in the kitchen, working away, preparing your food with meaning. pans, herbs, and wooden spoons strung about the countertop. it’s a beautiful sight. I melt at the thought of you getting softer from how much you’ve been putting away. how you keep me busy. how each plate is always licked clean. you press me into the corner with that home-grown belly against my body. you kiss me, and pull away wearing my handprints in flour.
after supper, we sit outside by the fire, tittering on about silly things while we listen to the distant songs of frogs and crickets. I admire you as you lean back in your lawn chair—which is straining a little under your weight, I make a mental note to get you a new one soon—and you sigh in satisfaction. the flames rise as do my desires, while you sleepily digest the day’s work, getting baked on the last of our homegrown cannabis.
when winter comes, I bulk you up with chest-warming soups and stews, homemade bread and butter, biscuits so thick they’ll stick to your ribs (and hips), roasted brussels sprouts frozen from the garden, potatoes and beef in garlic sauce. and the desserts… oh the desserts! fresh baked cookies, chocolate fudge, bread pudding! I know how you like to spend the holidays. gorging!
all winter, our house retains the constant smell of spices and baked goods. I chop wood to keep the fire going while you put the kettle on. winters never used to be my favorite time of year. but with you, winters are next to paradise. your coat won’t zip shut anymore? oh, honey. guess that means you’ll have to stay in and relax today. by the end of the season, you’re twice the man you used to be. even on your zoom meetings, anyone could tell how well fed I’ve kept you.
the wooden floorboards creak under your step and I recognize the sound of you approaching, the heft of your newly widened frame has become somewhat of a challenge to this little house of ours.
summer rolls around again and our garden is in full bloom. every green you can imagine is growing: tomatoes, peppers, basil, parsley, cucumbers, zucchini, carrots, potatoes, lettuce, peas, you name it! it’s a wide and colorful array. only the best for you. I tend to the garden knowing full well where it’s all going.
I grow warm each time I’m reminded of how far we’ve come. It’s a comforting life, sharing these acts of cultivation. domesticity has been so kind to us. my arms are stronger, my skills sharpened. I’ve put on a bit of a belly with all the cooking I’ve done for you. a mark of a good feeder. you can’t indulge someone fully if you don’t know how to indulge a bit yourself, right?
you’ve grown softer, larger, calmer, wiser. you’ve let go of a lot of stress, and you look so happy being cared for like this. you really grew into yourself, didn’t you?
we are absolutely, perfectly content. you get to taste the fruits of my labor, I get to feel them on you, kiss them on you, love them on you.
