As I drove north through Mississippi away from New Orleans, I gazed longingly at the other side of the highway. All of the people driving on that side of the highway were going south, where I truly wished to go– back to Echowood. I shook off those feelings and pushed myself to go further. I was particularly excited about visiting Ida in Tennessee, a queer, circus-y commune that seemed right up my alley. I had been talking about it for months.
But, these things often come when you don’t expect them and prove elusive when you seek them out specifically. On a last-minute jam to find a Texas farm that would host me (I wanted to see at least one farm in each state I visited), I found Echowood Farm on IC.org. They said to come on down, and so I did– to Delhi, TX (that’s “Dell-high”), an hour south-east of Austin off the 304. Twenty-three acres tucked into the Texas hill country, two houses– the “big house” and the “little house,” two trailers, an acre garden, a greenhouse, a herd of free-range goats, a flock of free-range chickens, a craft room, an industrial kitchen, a pond, a workshop with all manner of tools, a detached TV room/office, three dogs, three cats, and varying amounts of people. A Gonzales, TX flag flies in the wind, with the provoking words “Come and Take It.”
I realized that Echowood had the materials and the space (physical and emotional) to allow each person to ‘do their own thing.’ While a rough start-time for the work day was set at nine, it was certainly not set in stone. No one would hint that you should get a move on, or enforce even what specific tasks you should do. The word “anarchist” has been thrown around here a few times, and I would say that’s a fairly accurate depiction. However, must we call everything that doesn’t require you to ‘punch in’ or answer to a boss (from the Dutch for “master”)?
When I arrived here initially on February 7th, there were ten people in all at the farm. Three were new guests, plus myself. One was a more seasoned guest. Two were considered core people, and had been at Echowood between 9 months and a year. And three were core, stable members who had financial stake in the land. I could see the difficulty that is faced by a community in finding appropriate members. Both parties must click, and both be in a position to oblige each other. Some visitors click, but have other plans for their lives. Some visitors would love to stay after the two-week trial period, but the current members don’t feel they click. A couple of the guests that were here when I arrived had to be informed that the Echowoodians didn’t think this was the place for them. In one case, this brought tears, and in another, threats. This is serious business, I suppose. Opening your home up to strangers can be a blessing, and can also lead to all kinds of interpersonal drama.
Apparently, I clicked. I had planned to stay at Echowood for one week, but stayed longer for various reasons. The van needed some work, and some of the folks here helped me out loads in getting it fixed: trying to fix the problem here, and then, finally, driving to the auto shop in Smithville, with my van driving behind, to get repairs done. I was accommodated, along with my cat Simon, in the living room of the little house. Truly above and beyond. I clicked in particular with one sweet Swiss man, on Valentine’s Day, no less. How cute is that?
My mom had hooked me up with a hotel room via the company she works for in New Orleans– my next stop. So, I had to leave Echowood and continue on my journey before I was ready, and check in to the room. However, my trip would bring me back eventually.
