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The Road Washes Out in Spring: A Poet's Memoir of Living Off the Grid
For nearly twenty-five years, poet Baron Wormser and his family lived in a house in Maine with no electricity or running water. They grew much of their own food, carried water by hand, and read by the light of kerosene lamps. They considered themselves part of the "back to the land" movement, but their choice to live off the grid was neither statement nor they simply had built their house too far from the road and could not afford to bring in power lines. Over the years, they settled in to a life that centered on what Thoreau called "the essential facts."
In this graceful meditation, Wormser similarly spurns ideology in favor of observation, exploration, and reflection. "When we look for one thread of motive," he writes, "we are, in all likelihood, deceiving ourselves." His refusal to be satisfied with the obvious explanation, the single thread of motive, makes him a keen and sympathetic observer of his neighbors and community, a perceptive reader of poetry and literature, and an honest and unselfconscious analyst of his own responses to the natural world. The result is a series of candid personal essays on community and isolation, nature, civilization, and poetry.
In this graceful meditation, Wormser similarly spurns ideology in favor of observation, exploration, and reflection. "When we look for one thread of motive," he writes, "we are, in all likelihood, deceiving ourselves." His refusal to be satisfied with the obvious explanation, the single thread of motive, makes him a keen and sympathetic observer of his neighbors and community, a perceptive reader of poetry and literature, and an honest and unselfconscious analyst of his own responses to the natural world. The result is a series of candid personal essays on community and isolation, nature, civilization, and poetry.
199 pages, Hardcover
First published October 1, 2006
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157 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews
July 30, 2012
This is a rare treat for a great poet to share some lessons on life that links to his strengths as a poet. In this series of personal essays, Wormser reflects on a 25-year period when he lived off the electric grid in the woods of northwest Maine, in the process relating his rural mode of life with his ferment as a developing poet. That mode of life included an outhouse, hand pumped water, heating with wood, no telephone, and lighting by kerosene lamps. Despite his urban roots from Baltimore, he moved with his wife Janet and infant daughter to the remote homestead to achieve a simpler and harmonious mode of living. He thrived on solitude, tuning into life in the woods, and socially connecting with other colorful locals also trying to follow traditional ways of living. He takes a Zen-like approach to the satisfactions with the hard physical labor of wood splitting and hauling, snow shoveling, and gardening. The bounty comes from working with his wife on keeping a wonderful diet of homemade food using their own fresh vegetables supplemented with their canned preserves and sauces and stored root vegetables and apples.
All this helped provide a balance for him to pursue poetry. His motivation to live a basic rural life is explored as a personal bent and not founded on ideology or politics. It was no attempt to escape civilization. He worked as a town librarian and later as a teacher and was attuned to the world through newspapers and radio. He is persistently aware that: "We humans are domestic creatures who lie down at night and take meals each day yet live within the vastness of the cosmos. How hard it is to balance the small with the large, to not become obsessed with one at the expense of the other, to be neither narrow or dwarfed." He is quite clear that rural life is not inherently idyllic. The Yankee pride in surviving the long winters does not apply to many, as alcoholism, suicide, and domestic violence seem as much of a problem as in the cities.
All this helped provide a balance for him to pursue poetry. His motivation to live a basic rural life is explored as a personal bent and not founded on ideology or politics. It was no attempt to escape civilization. He worked as a town librarian and later as a teacher and was attuned to the world through newspapers and radio. He is persistently aware that: "We humans are domestic creatures who lie down at night and take meals each day yet live within the vastness of the cosmos. How hard it is to balance the small with the large, to not become obsessed with one at the expense of the other, to be neither narrow or dwarfed." He is quite clear that rural life is not inherently idyllic. The Yankee pride in surviving the long winters does not apply to many, as alcoholism, suicide, and domestic violence seem as much of a problem as in the cities.
February 20, 2020
I heard Baron read a few pages of this last summer and I was sold. It meanders quite a bit, but this is what I like about musing poets. This book feels like drinking wine over several nights by the fire while someone tells you stories about an earlier life. I like how the poetry is woven into the caning, chopping of wood and gossip about the neighbors. Very Thoreau and Walden and Whitman. Very New England (Maine).
July 5, 2024
This life-off-the-grid memoir is much more than your usual sodbuster. It has more in common with Thoreau's time at Walden Pond -- with the benefit of speaking directly to our time.
Wormser and his family lived in rural Maine, without electricity or running water, for 25 years. But it is not a tale of simplicity. It is no lesson on the value of being cold half the year.
On the contrary, life off the grid contains a relentless list of urgent tasks -- to cut firewood or haul water, to grow gardens and keep the road to civilization passable. Along the way, this book is rich in original thinking on all manner of topics. The author proves himself incapable of a shallow thought and allergic to cliche.
The memoir is enriched by local color, which a reader in Vermont found authentically familiar, and free of judgment or condescension. And it lacks for nothing in sophistication and timely insights, despite the absence of newspaper delivery or TV reception.
This book does not have an overarching plot or plan, so it is not designed to be read as one narrative experience. It's more like a series of essays, nearly all of them compelling and thought provoking. So it's a good book to pick up from time to time. I read it this way: finish a book, read one chapter in this one, start another book. It suffering nothing from this method, and I found it a pleasure to return to.
Not an ordinary book-- in a good way.
Wormser and his family lived in rural Maine, without electricity or running water, for 25 years. But it is not a tale of simplicity. It is no lesson on the value of being cold half the year.
On the contrary, life off the grid contains a relentless list of urgent tasks -- to cut firewood or haul water, to grow gardens and keep the road to civilization passable. Along the way, this book is rich in original thinking on all manner of topics. The author proves himself incapable of a shallow thought and allergic to cliche.
The memoir is enriched by local color, which a reader in Vermont found authentically familiar, and free of judgment or condescension. And it lacks for nothing in sophistication and timely insights, despite the absence of newspaper delivery or TV reception.
This book does not have an overarching plot or plan, so it is not designed to be read as one narrative experience. It's more like a series of essays, nearly all of them compelling and thought provoking. So it's a good book to pick up from time to time. I read it this way: finish a book, read one chapter in this one, start another book. It suffering nothing from this method, and I found it a pleasure to return to.
Not an ordinary book-- in a good way.
April 22, 2023
I learned about this book from his son’s IG account that I follow about making natural meadows. No wonder he has such a love of nature as it wants to be.
It was a pleasure to read about the work of simple, off grid living through the lens of appreciating all the benefits. Heating the house each day - a reflection on the beauty of fire. Cooking and canning? Gratitude for the abundance. Chopping trees? The meditative time and tension of attention and inattention. Dealing with a poorly placed washed out road? The detachment of “how it should be” and simply navigating what is.
No wonder he and his wife were drawn to Buddhism. What struck me was the abundance of time that he felt and that he lived at a pace commensurate with time to observe, reflect and write (sparely, poetry). Others looking in might see the plethora of chores and that each task had significant effort and multiple steps. But that wasn’t the experience he shared.
His love of books and words and all things nature came through as well as his appreciation for his “simple life” - one so many would find arduous and overwhelming. And a life not chosen by politics or to make a point as much as one chosen to feed the inner needs of he and his wife.
Really loved this book.
“Libraries were about patience, possibility, and persistence.”
It was a pleasure to read about the work of simple, off grid living through the lens of appreciating all the benefits. Heating the house each day - a reflection on the beauty of fire. Cooking and canning? Gratitude for the abundance. Chopping trees? The meditative time and tension of attention and inattention. Dealing with a poorly placed washed out road? The detachment of “how it should be” and simply navigating what is.
No wonder he and his wife were drawn to Buddhism. What struck me was the abundance of time that he felt and that he lived at a pace commensurate with time to observe, reflect and write (sparely, poetry). Others looking in might see the plethora of chores and that each task had significant effort and multiple steps. But that wasn’t the experience he shared.
His love of books and words and all things nature came through as well as his appreciation for his “simple life” - one so many would find arduous and overwhelming. And a life not chosen by politics or to make a point as much as one chosen to feed the inner needs of he and his wife.
Really loved this book.
“Libraries were about patience, possibility, and persistence.”
March 26, 2019
Very elegiac work. An ode to living off the grid, in a manner that puts the work it takes in proper proportion. Wormser’s poetic appreciation for the work, and the choice to live as they had, really drives this memoir.
To read about a part of a state I love, and spent many summers around, I am deeply grateful for this book. My grandparents were the Calebs and the Stantons in many many ways. This book reminds me of them and the place they loved and the place they let go of one day. I carry it with me though and this reminded me of why that is.
To read about a part of a state I love, and spent many summers around, I am deeply grateful for this book. My grandparents were the Calebs and the Stantons in many many ways. This book reminds me of them and the place they loved and the place they let go of one day. I carry it with me though and this reminded me of why that is.
January 16, 2020
3.5, really. It's an often beautiful book about living fully in the country that does not shy away from both the heady highs nature provides and the desperate lows rural life not infrequently produces. I did have trouble with the book's meandering structure and the contrasts Wormser sometimes drew between himself and his neighbors. They are, of course, living where they live for a wide variety of reasons, but they occasionally felt oversimplified.
January 11, 2023
Absolutely fascinating story of a poet-teacher and his family living off the grid in rural Maine for 25 years. They build their house, have a really hard life where heat is by woodstoves and they don't have electricity and yes, the road washes out in spring. They live a very hard life that is full of beauty; while they love it, they don't romanticize the hard work. So interesting. One of my fave books I read this year!
May 18, 2025
This book capture so much of the minutia of the world of living with the land. It is not surprise it is written by a poet his commentary on poetry itself were just as enchanting as his poetic experience in the Maine woods. Recommending this book to all my people who love the land and want to find some to nurture as their own.
December 22, 2013
Interesting treatise on Wormser's life living off-grid in a house in the woods in a little town way up in Maine with his wife and children. As much as he enthused about really not minding the endless chopping of wood and tried to make going to the outhouse in the middle of a winter night sound alluring, he was honest enough that I had no interest in living that life, though I would have loved to have stopped by for a visit.
What I liked most about this book is his comments on poetry - I've read two of his poetry books but the poems just didn't speak to me. His numerous comments on poetry, however, did.
Comparing poetry to kerosene lamps he used to light his house at night "A poem, as it embodies emotion that is both modulated and fervent, possesses human heat and light. It speaks to an ache deep within us" (11).
On great literature..."The books on the wall could be humorous, but they were not happy. I told my students that they would have to make their peace with unhappiness. That was part of being an adult- not renouncing happiness but making one's peace with unhappiness" (16)..."and the relations among the books, the strange neighbors that libraries created...the gruff dispensation of the alphabet but Jane Austen, Chinua Achebe, Sherwood Anderson, and Kinglsey Amis within hailing distance of one another. (16).
On writing poetry - "I wanted to butt lines up against one another and see how they fit. I wanted to see how the shape determined the line and vice-versa, and how rhythm and sound created what seemed like infinite texture and density within a stanza. I wanted the feel the weight of such a slight thing, for I knew it had a weight and that the weight varied from one stanza to another. I wanted to order the sounds that the syllables and accents made into patterns that pleased me. I wanted the mixed precision of such an endeavor - exact and inexact, steadfast and dreamlike, all at the same time. I wanted to practice balance and imbalance, trace symmetry and asymmetry, toy with words and honor them." (25). Yeah - what he said.
"The thrill of being alive on earth will never go away, and poetry is steeped in that ardent biology." (26).
On forgotten, massive dead elms "They were sculptures of loss." (29)
On books in libraries "Or they simply sat there waiting. The waiting was part of their lives and they didn't mind it. Libraries were about patience, possibility, and persistence" (168)
"...poetry in many ways was a spiritual practice: one learned to work with one's shortcomings while trying to create something of value, one lived with and trusted spirit, one embraced the passion and precision of imagination." (175).
What I liked most about this book is his comments on poetry - I've read two of his poetry books but the poems just didn't speak to me. His numerous comments on poetry, however, did.
Comparing poetry to kerosene lamps he used to light his house at night "A poem, as it embodies emotion that is both modulated and fervent, possesses human heat and light. It speaks to an ache deep within us" (11).
On great literature..."The books on the wall could be humorous, but they were not happy. I told my students that they would have to make their peace with unhappiness. That was part of being an adult- not renouncing happiness but making one's peace with unhappiness" (16)..."and the relations among the books, the strange neighbors that libraries created...the gruff dispensation of the alphabet but Jane Austen, Chinua Achebe, Sherwood Anderson, and Kinglsey Amis within hailing distance of one another. (16).
On writing poetry - "I wanted to butt lines up against one another and see how they fit. I wanted to see how the shape determined the line and vice-versa, and how rhythm and sound created what seemed like infinite texture and density within a stanza. I wanted the feel the weight of such a slight thing, for I knew it had a weight and that the weight varied from one stanza to another. I wanted to order the sounds that the syllables and accents made into patterns that pleased me. I wanted the mixed precision of such an endeavor - exact and inexact, steadfast and dreamlike, all at the same time. I wanted to practice balance and imbalance, trace symmetry and asymmetry, toy with words and honor them." (25). Yeah - what he said.
"The thrill of being alive on earth will never go away, and poetry is steeped in that ardent biology." (26).
On forgotten, massive dead elms "They were sculptures of loss." (29)
On books in libraries "Or they simply sat there waiting. The waiting was part of their lives and they didn't mind it. Libraries were about patience, possibility, and persistence" (168)
"...poetry in many ways was a spiritual practice: one learned to work with one's shortcomings while trying to create something of value, one lived with and trusted spirit, one embraced the passion and precision of imagination." (175).
February 9, 2010
In the 60s, poet Baron Wormser and his wife bought 48 acres in the Maine woods where they lived for over 23 years without electricity or running water. They raised two children, held jobs in the nearby small town, and participated in the civic and cultural life. This meditation on that time reflects a life lived intentionally and reflectively--a life lived deliberately as Thoreau would have it. "We were living to make our feelings palpable, so we could inhabit them literally," writes Wormser near the end of the book. It's not just a reflection on living off the grid, though: Wormser also reflects on his development as a poet. This memoir is not some misty-eyed new age tale of finding our roots, but rather a forthright look at the choices he and his wife made and what those choices meant, physically, spiritually, and intellectually. This is a thought-provoking and inspiring read that I took slowly.
June 25, 2013
Those expecting discussion of poetry itself may be disappointed as that's a minor part of the book, mostly near the end. Instead, it's the story of family life in rural Maine a generation ago; the Wormsers didn't exactly intend to live without electricity and phone, but their property was far enough off the regular lines that it would've cost quite a bit to get them wired, so they decided to forego that.
What to expect: explanation (examples) of how they lived, day-to-day life in small town Maine far from the touristy areas, as well as observations of nature, portraits of neighbors, etc.
Definitely recommended.
What to expect: explanation (examples) of how they lived, day-to-day life in small town Maine far from the touristy areas, as well as observations of nature, portraits of neighbors, etc.
Definitely recommended.
September 9, 2012
I liked how the author interspersed his poetic drive within each of the chapters along with his telling of homesteading in the 1970's as among the back to the land movement. He and his wife lived in their homesteaded home in Maine during the years their children were growing up. Many people who were among the back to the landers were not able to maintain homesteading with it's range of hardships. Appreciated how these two seemed to adapt well, however, he did have a job with income, making a difference in sustaining the family's homesteading efforts.
September 3, 2011
Baron Wormser (1948-),the librarian and poet, wrote perhaps the best book on rural living, The Road Washes Out in Spring, his account of living for 23 years with wife and daughters in a house completely off the grid: “no conventional power, no electric lines, no light switches, no faucets or spigots, no toaster or hair dryer, no flush toilet, no furnace, no hot water heater, and no monthly bill from Central Maine Power.” (p. 4)
February 12, 2017
Excellent memoir of living off the grid intertwined with musings about poets and ideas. Its easy to notice that the author is a poet himself. The ideas in here resonated with me for a long time. I tried to read this book as slowly as possible. Much of it read like poetry I felt and I could read the odd sentence over and over.
Right up there with Frost, Emerson and Whitman!
Bravo.
Right up there with Frost, Emerson and Whitman!
Bravo.
March 14, 2012
I loved this book. I loved the description of Wormser's life in central Maine, the way they literally built their life, the characters they encounter. The Mainers they describe remind me of people I know. I'm not ready to pack up and build a log cabin in Maine, but this book is a wonderful reminder of how special my state is.
August 17, 2014
A modern day Walden, this book explores living off the grid but also poetry, religion, American culture and spirituality. If I read it again, I would read one or two vignettes a day and ponder each one rather than blazing straight through. Beautiful read.
May 13, 2009
good book, must re read, a book that needs to be read slowly
August 21, 2007
A wonderful account of a poet's beginnings.
Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews