Our mega farm store Rural King was out of both two-cycle oil and bar chain lubricant for my chainsaws. This is the sort of common outage that no longer really surprises. I did not even bother to ask why. Cindy grows tired of hearing me come home and say, “This week, it’s yogurt! They said the truck was delayed.” Every outing it’s something — milk, butter, or, God forbid, toilet paper — those empty shelves, always rotating, never the same, our new normal.
The next meal
That whatever is out of stock typically shows up by the next time I circumambulate the aisles does little to reassure me that nothing has broken. I am not an optimist, though I do play a cheerful pessimist. Which is why I notice with grim fascination and humor the signs that our world of plenty has frayed.
An old friend and I used to debate whether we had too much in this culture. When I mentioned that I aspired to a “genteel poverty” he was dismissive. Well, the reality is that world may just be dawning regardless of one’s aspirations. Certainly, there is plenty that we don’t need. But when the nearby Kroger reduces its bread aisle by half to keep up with ongoing shortages, that is more than noticeable: it is a marker. And as when the global supply of baby formula or cancer drugs is delayed, there are consequences and impacts.
Sometimes it is merely the balance within a particular commodity that is off. That common calibers of ammo for hunting rifles have been hard to find for a few years is not news and concerns only those willing to go out and claim a live animal as the next meal. That the ammo commonly favored by the disaffected for mass shootings is more easily available is a somewhat more problematic concern to the larger society.
Or consider our friends’ elderly mother. Her car was pronounced “totaled” by the insurance company after a modest accident, when a replacement part was not to be found in the supply chain. It would most likely show up, eventually. But it was easier to close out the claim than to wait months or a year for a part to arrive. That there are few cars on any car lot to purchase, and only at a dear price, matters not to anyone but the person in critical need of a vehicle.
Movement of the goods we use to maintain this global lifestyle is principally done via shipping containers. At $1,500 per container, it was a cheap method of transport at the start of 2020. But that cost ballooned to close to $30,000 last year, and it has hovered around $15,000 for the past nine months. All but the most dull-witted can figure out that the cost differential impacts the chain as either a price increase, a delay, or a simple absence of product ordered. Any of the three has a knock-on effect that ripples through the economy, and reaches consumers as shortages and inflation.
Add skyrocketing costs of diesel to the mix, and a profitable store on the West Coast has to close, because the price of sending new books jumped 300 percent, outpacing sales and the cost of goods. Then understand that those everyday profit-and-loss considerations are being factored into every business decision by both mom-and-pop operations and large corporate concerns. The ongoing nuisance shortages like yogurt or two-cycle oil are being amplified exponentially throughout the supply chain, at least in the short term. Factor in timely supply deficits in key parts, fertilizer, and the like, and “nuisance” barely begins to cover our woes. These are only the visible surface cracks of a much deeper structural fracturing of the global economy.
Moving manufacturing back home, then retooling for a national or local consumer economy, seems an unlikely course in these resource- and financially constricted days. And, says my cheerful inner pessimist, there isn’t much we can do to change this trajectory. But there is plenty we can do to provide a little more resilience in our lives, and it’s along the lines of “prepare for changes and expect less.” It is old advice, but growing a garden, developing a basic tool kit of low-tech skills, learning to repair, cultivating friends who share your values and outlook, and stepping outside the 24/7 consumer culture — all can help mitigate.
Time, however, marches on, and it passes the unwary and the unprepared at a more blistering pace than most would have anticipated at the beginning of the journey. Best to be like the ants and start preparing now for our unpredictable future.
“Truer words were never spoken.”
Thanks. As you have mentioned previously, paying off debt (or not getting into debt in the first place) should been in that resilience list.
A bookstore on the West Coast closing… is this someone we know?
Just one of their stores.
Aspiring to “genteel poverty” sounds like a lovely way to live today. A good library, a comfortable chair, and a winter fire nearby. Not to mention the smell of a winter soup on the stove, bread fresh from the oven, and the sound of some coming home. These really are the simple pleasures in life.
I think you’ve really captured the times we are living in, and your solutions are right on the mark. Heck, most of the stuff people buy today isn’t really needed. Have you noticed that as brick and mortar stores are closing the retail space is now being turned into “self-storage” space? How much crap does a family or a person need?
Jody,
You nailed the “genteel” image perfectly. And it does lead into nicely the second part of your response. Indeed, how much is needed to live a wonderful life? We have frequently commented on the size of the old homes in our valley. Most between 900-1200sf, where a family of 5-11 kids were often raised. Describe that as an option to an average family today of 2 adults and 1.5 kids and they would think you had gone mad.
Cheers,
Brian
Thank you for your well thought out, well stated and insightful concerns. I too am a mostly happy pessimist with optimistic leanings (Gemini). Enjoyed your revival of the ant and the grasshopper parable from my youth! Love your posts!
Thanks, Diana. We look forward to seeing you at Monkeytown.
Yes, thank you for this post. I second the praise of the other commenters.
Thanks, Sarah. You made that shift.
There’s been a load of interesting discussion on why supply chains are struggling. Some of it even seems informed!
One candidate is that globalised supply chains are too difficult to make work when hit by shocks like Covid and Ukraine conflict, Russian response to sanctions etc
But what this does highlight is opportunities for relocalisation.
Even chainsaw oil has some substitutes that can be made locally:
https://www.fs.fed.us/eng/pubs/html/98511316/98511316.html
On the topic of chainsaws, I just upgraded one of mine to a bigger Huskie. One of life’s joys unknown to the urban resident is tackling a big pile of wood with a good sized saw and factory sharpened chain.
Glad to hear you are still doing what you and your partner do, Brian. Love reading your blog
David
David,
Thanks for the comments. I apologize for the late response (not sure how I missed this originally). Good to have that alternative to bar oil. Although I have a nice crosscut saw and plenty of axes, I’d sure hate to go too old school. A chainsaw is a pretty darned effective use of the dwindling fossil fuel stocks.
Cheers,
Brian
You can run some engine types on 100% ethanol. Some with conversion from petrol and others designed to run on ethanol. I’m not sure how a high-revving engine for a chainsaw would work with ethanol whether retrofit – if possible – or designed for that application.
Making small amounts of close to 100% ethanol starting from fermenting a starchy crop is relatively straightforward. Using a small fraction of a farm to grow spuds for fuel for onfarm use is IMO justifiably sustainable. Most farms back in the day would use ~20% of their land to grow food for traction animals.
The US has significant support for farm based ethanol although much of this is for what are IMO daft uses like blending with the general petrol supply.
Onfarm biodiesel from small patches of oil seeds is also very doable. I’ve visited farmers doing that here. Biodiesel can be used to run tractors etc.
I have 4 chainsaws currently. One is a battery electric. It’s fine for smaller limbs. That technology has progressed rapidly over the last ten years.The battery can be charged off solar.
Surprising amount of battery farm products hitting the market. Some quite simple but still useful, We need 4WD 65HP upwards tractors in our hills. Will be a while until they are electrified.
I was always told that using ethanol in small engines would gum up the carb and breakdown the primer bulb (if one was present). Have you read or heard that? I am interested in an electric chainsaw for limbing work. I have assumed they were lighter, which is the attraction for me. However, that may not be the case. What is your experience?
I bought an AEG battery chainsaw 5 years ago. Works fine. Light, quiet. About an hours use before it needs charging. Can buy two batteries so swap in the field.
But only really handles limbs up to 150-200mm. And I’ve mainly used it on windfall trees. So green wood. I don’t think it would do well on dried eucalyptus.
Battery technology is improving rapidly.