greenbird ([personal profile] greenbird) wrote2011-04-16 12:31 pm

1. spaces we inhabit, beings made into flesh

It goes like this: I have a project idea and thennnnnnnnnnn it usually fizzes out after the initial flair. This one, this about being up to my elbows in dirt, about reversing the alienated relationship we Americans have with our food, has been in the making for a while. It's also about challenging myself to physically work, and to mentally be able to condition myself to be able to slog through it. Ever since I've started working, it's been short of though not quite nearly a nightmare to get myself used to the daily, mind-numbing grind of doing the same tasks over and over again.

For gardening, though, I'm taking my time. During the months I gathered compost material, I wandered through the backyard, seeing all the changes that happened through the last four years that I hadn't lived here, and the last two plus years of neglect. While the hornet's nests have largely disappeared, and we finally, no longer have poultry of any sort, there are a lot of other issues. The pathway to the creek is now overgrown with thorny Himalayan blackberry bushes. English ivy is creeping in from the neighbor's property, and sneaking up two trees, ready to smother. There's a dead tree that's now leaning on two trees, and when the wind blows, you can hear it creak eerily. The greenhouse is no longer completely covered with plastic, and all the tires of the bikes that were stored in there, have rotted.

Honestly, I'm probably biding my time too long, though it stopped being freezing at night only in early April. I put the seeds into dirt about ten days go, and I'm worried they won't sprout! For most of those days, it's been at least a light sprinkle to unforgiving rain. The kind that makes even driving difficult.

Both of my parents, in some way, are into making/like making stuff grow. "Gardening" is a word that feels too much like a hobby, so it's not accurate enough for what they do. It's a lot like a hobby, because it's what they do in their spare time, but it's more important than just a hobby. What is it about having food from your childhood available to you, even though back then it was ubiquitous greens that were on the side of the road, now akin to gold, years later, thousands of miles further from the places you grew up? What is it about waiting for it to grow, protecting it and cooking it for people you love?



I need some icons up in this place.