Hey, with the natural world on the edge of collapse, I figure this is the perfect opportunity to utilize a crisis to get a leg up. Those beach houses starting not to look so upscale with the bloated dead marine life clotting the shore? Make your move to Survivalhavenwood. It’s pretty hot, but there’s plenty of water, and most of the locals moved off decades ago because they’d already strip farmed the soil down to its red clay substrate. You won’t starve here. Not immediately. Majestic oaks provide suitable mast for those willing to fight for it, and the place is packed with native rodents and marsupials. Imagine a dinner of spit roasted squirrels after a day of combing the undergrowth for wild mushrooms or ferns. Then, as the community assembles to draw lots for who gets to be the next “breadgiver” there’s a festival atmosphere as “the gathering of the stones” commences.

Once the marrow is sucked from the bones, and they’re stacked to dry in the ossuary, our dwindling, yet happy group can move on to such activities as pollarding trees for firewood  as insurance against the impending ice storms. There’ll be no bickering, because bickerers forgo the ordinary drawing of the lots, along with grumblers. Sighers may get a reprieve based on community vote, but shirkers will be stoned immediately. Stoners will do all of the heavy lifting.

Accomodations.

Coozledad and Mrs. Pol Pot-Jones will occupy the main dwelling, from which edicts, demands and assorted nastiness will issue until the merry band has had quite enough, and they join the chipmunks, shrews and blind snakes on the spit. Things will go from bad to worse however, when it is discovered that they were cooked before giving up the location of the yams.

After clawing through the hardpan for days looking for an elusive “underground mountain of tubers” the group will curl up in exhaustion, to sleep in one of these fine dependencies:

The Grenoble

Remarkably dry for having been built directly on the ground, the Grenoble sleeps a slender family of five, or can be used for firewood for several days. The floors are still salty from its days as a smokehouse, so children can spend many happy hours licking them in a fruitless search for the minerals they naturally crave.

The Sylvanus

Gracious communal living with a twist! In the structure itself! Loggias permit open air dining and offer a shelter in the event of the building’s collapse.

The Halifax

Sometimes tempers may flare (particularly during hypoglycemic episodes) and one or more of our intentional community may have to “cool off” here in the lovely Halifax. Spacious communal living, but residents may be asked periodically to share their accommodations with “breadgivers” or serial malefactors, which, lets face it, are basically the same thing.

The Bois (pronounced Bwah)

Built originally to house unsaleable dusts and middens of tobbacco plants until they could be  foisted off as snuff , incorporated into pork sausages or woven into children’s work clothing, the Bois boasts an incredibly hot, dry upper floor during the summer months, which is suitable for power yoga, meditation, or drying delicious “breadgiver pemmican”.

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