This is about the first time I lived off the grid.

I'd moved onto an organic farm, with my cat, Kitty. We pitched my two tents in a small clearing, bordered on one side by kale, on another side by an enormous big-leaf maple, and on two sides by acres and acres of blackberry bramble and Scotch broom.

We kept all my stuff in one tent, and we lived in the other. On moonless nights I could see the static sparks Kitty made moving around in my sleeping bag. Mornings she got up before dawn, and came back to wake me later. I'd make coffee with my campstove and French press, and then go off to work.

In the evenings I'd make a fire, and read outside until twilight. At twilight the bats came out, and Kitty and I watched them swoop around, catching mosquitos. On weekends I picked beets for the farmer's market, and slept in my hammock.

One day I was gathering branches after a storm and I stepped on a bee. It fucking hurt. I rolled around on the ground swearing, while Kitty stared at me.

Finally I got lonely. I decided I would visit my ex-girlfriend. As the crow flies, she lived only about a mile away. But as the crow walks, it was a few miles. I decided I would try walking through the bramble fields.

I put on my wool pants and boots, and grabbed my machete, and marched off into the weeds. I thwacked and thwacked and thwacked for hours. I stopped and started again. I wasn't getting anywhere. The blackberry thorns were ripping up my neck and hands, and the growth was way over my head. I couldn't see where I was going. And I was exhausted.

I flopped down into the bush, but it was so thick it propped me right up. I looked up at the sun, now sinking low into the late afternoon. I thought maybe I would just die there.

-Jenny Miller