Not as a political statement, nor as part of a cult movement, Baron Wormser decided to build a home in the woods of Maine to connect with the earth in a closely physical and spiritual way. Believing this was an important part of learning to write poetry, he immersed himself in the work and joy of living off the land with his young wife and family. Without the modern conveniences of indoor plumbing, electricity and central heating, it was back to basics.

"The life occuring around us was small-scale but intense; I came to love the feeling that the woods were alive with an energy I couldn't hear or see..."

Though living off the grid, he and his family were not isolated from their community or the world. They were insulated from the battering noise and frantic pace of materialism. They grew the food they ate; were warmed by the wood they cut; were attuned to the slow rhythmic cycles of nature. This is a good-natured story – written with honest introspection, wonder, and a fantastic vocabulary.

Wormser, a former Poet Laureate of Maine, shares his personal observations and appreciation of just being alive. He includes many loosely connected essays about his experiences and meditations of poetry, family, faith, and nature. I really connected with his views on what is important, essential, and valuable in life. To me, he says it all just right. I applaud his individuality. I’m now ready to search out a book of his poetry – and enjoy knowing the poet before reading his poems.

I would rec this book to anyone who thinks they might be interested. Since this is a collection of essays, if one gets too deep - skip it! There are so many good ones here. ( )

Baron Wormser and his wife, Janet, retreated as young-marrieds to Maine to see if they could live life simply and in harmony with the earth's daily and yearly rhythms, off the grid, and off the map. Yeah, you could say, oh, hippies. But that would be unjust. Wormser says it best himself, "We didn't move to the woods to demonstrate how indifferent we were to materialism; we moved there to see what the life of spirit might be in an undistracted setting." Wormser, while working in private to become a poet, also worked as a librarian for the local high school, his wife worked too and among other things, participated for a time as a Selectperson. They buy a little scrap of land on a road nominally cared for by the town and start their new life. Luckily a guardian angel in the form of a retired Maine carpenter an individual with an open mind and time on his hands surfaces to help and guide them, but that is the way these adventures often go, you give yourself up, and things fall into place. The book alternates between the 'story' of learning to live off the land, and their changing and maturing relationships with the people and the land around them, and Wormser's own growth and development as a poet. Wormser makes an effort not to make it sound too easy, splitting wood by flashlight, running to the outhouse with the trots in January, the endless rounds of tasks and chores, including the (hopeless) quest for the perfect laundromat (Where are those bookstore/cafe/laundromats when you need them?). I loved the thoughtful approach and considered prose, flashes of humor, moments of awe and insight and the unfolding of his passion for poetry, a growing confidence in himself and his ability to call himself a poet. It's a slow and quiet read, not a book to be rushed through and ticked off the list. Anyone interested in 'looking at the world' through the eyes of a developing poet, in what living off the grid is really like, and in a close and lyrical examination of a rural existence is going to love reading The Road Washes Out in Spring. ****1/2 .
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