Pangloss, who was as inquisitive as he was argumentative, asked the old man what the name of the strangled Mufti was. ‘I don’t know,’ answered the worthy man, ‘and I have never known the name of any Mufti, nor of any Vizier. I have no idea what you’re talking about; my general view is that people who meddle with politics usually meet a miserable end, and indeed they deserve to. I never bother with what is going on in Constantinople; I only worry about sending the fruits of the garden which I cultivate off to be sold there.’ Having said these words, he invited the strangers into his house; his two sons and two daughters presented them with several sorts of sherbet, which they had made themselves, with kaimak enriched with the candied-peel of citrons, with oranges, lemons, pine-apples, pistachio-nuts, and Mocha coffee… – after which the two daughters of the honest Muslim perfumed the strangers’ beards. ‘You must have a vast and magnificent estate,’ said Candide to the turk. ‘I have only twenty acres,’ replied the old man; ‘I and my children cultivate them; and our labour preserves us from three great evils: weariness, vice, and want.’ Candide, on his way home, reflected deeply on what the old man had said. ‘This honest Turk,’ he said to Pangloss and Martin, ‘seems to be in a far better place than kings…. I also know,” said Candide, “that we must cultivate our garden.’
The families I know who live best are permaculturalists. Visiting them for dinner is always a treat. It's hard work though, and like others they have supplemental income. I imagine this old man knows well the trick: an independent life is impossible unless you have enough healthy young people around to do the labour.
It is kind of hilarious how often rent-seeking behavior is called out as evil when it comes to software companies, but actual rent-seeking with real estate is seen as virtuous investment.
Not impossible in impoverished areas. A rural trailer park, some section 8 housing in a bad part of town, or maybe they scooped up some single-family units at the bottom of the housing market crash.
I agree it's hard work. Every project seems like it will take an hour at the outset, but ends up taking eight hours due to a wide variety of unexpected real world complications.
I traded in a beautiful city home for 106 acres at the beginning of the pandemic and am still glad I did. People have a fantasy picture of the tradeoff though... In reality, in rural places you have less social interaction and the people are of a lower caliber than urban areas. You can't make money farming unless you do it at massive scale, so I still work just as much online as before. Only now my free time goes into farming instead of golf or restaurants.
You can't make money commodity farming unless at scale, but growing boutique items can be profitable. You just need to find things that nobody else is providing, and build a market for them. Vertical integration is also a good way to make money without scaling up - things like pickles and other cottage foods have a much higher profit margin.
Love the quote and book, but only half-way agree with the sentiment, unless you stretch the analogy of what the garden is. Simple living/work won't in itself quench or stave off desire and passions. If that were true farmers would be a happier demographic. Desire never really disappears, it's at best channeled through engagement / flow, which dovetails with the fact that man's work is also the strongest predictor of his happiness. I imagine, but don't know, that those who want for nothing are not complacent, and those who are complacent can never consume enough.
> In a garden, things grow... but first, they must wither; trees have to lose their leaves in order to put forth new leaves, and to grow thicker and stronger and taller. Some trees die, but fresh saplings replace them. Gardens need a lot of care. But if you love your garden, you don’t mind working in it, and waiting. Then in the proper season you will surely see it flourish.
> A gardener! Isn’t that the perfect description of what a real businessman is?
-- Voltaire, Candide