This is a true story; one that I found fascinating and I wanted to share it with you!

Our Year without Groceries 

by Clare Adams

My oldest son has always been inspired by hard work.  At 4, he practiced the violin everyday. At 5, he carved one dagger after another from wood. At 6, he built a cob cottage in our backyard. And at 7, he used a grown man’s axe to chop down 30-foot trees for a log cabin. So, when at 8, Jack came to me and my husband Josh with the idea that our family of five not visit a grocery store for an entire year, we actually sat down to figure it out because we knew he was serious. And because we knew if we didn’t give it a shot, we might end up with a railway in our backyard instead.

Many of Jack’s ideas have sprouted from characters in books, like the Little House in the Big Woods series by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Laura and her family travel once or twice a year to the small town of Independence for staple groceries like sugar and salt while the rest they hunt, grow, or trade with neighbors. In Jack’s mind, if the Ingalls could do it, why couldn’t we? Never-mind that they lived over 100 years ago.

And so in early December last year the five of us—me, Josh, Jack (8), Esme (6) and Titus (2)—discussed Jack’s idea over dinner one evening. When I say we discussed it I mean we laid down the ground rules because trying it was a forgone conclusion. We came up with the following:

∙Buy locally from farms but no grocery stores.

∙Eat our own chickens, deer, eggs, and garden bounty.

∙Go out to eat at the end of each month as a family “Hurrah! We survived another month!” celebration.

Three weeks later, on New Year's Day, we officially began our year without groceries. Initially, I assumed we would learn patience and contentment from eating similar meals and waiting for things to grow. But I had no idea how rich our lives would become (and no idea that cabbage is pretty much the only thing that grows in Georgia in January).

We still had the occasional, “Please mom, don’t make me eat this” moment, on the whole our eating experience had already been revolutionized. Ben Franklin said it well, “Hunger is the best pickle.” As winter turned to spring, we were thrilled to sit down together around the table because we were truly hungry. It sounds so simple but before the experiment, our constant snacking kept us topped off so that come dinnertime, cajoling to get the kids to eat almost always occurred.

There was even a different sense as we said our blessing before each meal—a sincere gratitude born from desire and expectation. I couldn’t help but parallel other aspects of our lives to this principle: by not feeding our every whim at the instant it occurred we felt an earnest delight when each need was met in its time.

The most amusing part was how sorry others seemed to feel for us (which I understood because I thought I would be feeling sorry for us). Neighbors insisted we take some of their food. Friends stopped by and inevitably asked, “How are you holding up?” I’d tell them we didn’t have normal foods on our table but we did have quite a variety: milk, oatmeal and eggs for breakfast; fruit, beans and homemade cornbread or wheat bread for lunch; venison, chicken or lamb with green vegetables and brown bread for dinner. It was more than enough. And as the experiment continued, we had even more.

“I can already say with certainty that we have forever been changed—and not just because we’ve learned the hard lessons like patience and sacrifice.”

We are now halfway through the year and as I look back on where we were in December, I can already say with certainty that we have forever been changed—and not just because we’ve learned the hard lessons like patience and sacrifice.

My children have a keen sense of when blueberries grow and they anticipate June because of it. They finish every morsel of their yogurt, cheese, and crackers because they helped make it and understand it isn’t in infinite supply. Together we’ve met countless folks from whom we buy honey, cheese, lamb, milk, and vegetables. Many have become friends who eat dinner with us and teach us their different trades.

Jack and Esme now relate milk to Sam and his cows and veggies to Natalya, a lovely Russian lady around the corner who sells her greens right out of the field. When we run out of butter, Jack doesn’t blink an eye but skims the cream off the top of the milk, pops it in the blender, and whips it up for us. It is their new normal.

Today we look out the window and we see more than green plants and growing gardens. We hear more than the sounds of nature. We feel a deep sense of opportunity, provision, and delight. I can’t help but wonder how many other crazy ideas my kids have had that I passed over. I at least know that I am enormously grateful this one found a home here.

Clare Adams lives in Ellerslie, Georgia where she grows veggies, chickens, and children with her husband and faithful dog, Stella. 

I don't know that I could endure not walking into a grocery store for a year but it got me to thinking that I could definitely eat healthier, especially in Florida where the growing of fruits and vegetables is a year-round process.  This story has given me a lot to ponder.