My sister, HalfNakedRobin, insists that I am not very good at counting. That it can't possibly have been 15 years since I last had a vegetable garden. However, it really may be even longer than that. I may not be very good at math, but I did move to Santa Cruz in the Fall of 1990. I left my fancy-pants job at Betsy Fisher (oh how I adored that job!) to go live with the boys (and boy oh boy were they BOYS!!) in the big house in Bonny Doon and play the keyboards in a rock and roll band.
The band, as has been previously mentioned, never actually performed in public. The band that broke up before it actually ever really materialized because of the combination of very dramatic and explosive personalities.
We were all very back-to-earth treehugger types who were determined to live off the land. Some of us far more determined than others. I will never forget that first year. That year, we had a fabulous garden. The boys and I dug up all the dirt on a huge sunny patch at that big house in Bonny Doon and we grew all kinds of amazing things and ate from that garden all year long (the benefit of living in Santa Cruz!). We started seedlings in the greenhouse that we had on the property and since none of us had "real" jobs, cultivating that garden for our food really was our job.
That year, my first year of disdain for all things very Republican and related to Ronald Regan, I was also expected to be a bridesmaid in my best friend from boarding school's wedding. Lydia was quite certain that I was going to show up barely clothed and covered in dirt (not a bad assumption even now!) with sticks in my hair and dirt so deep under my fingernails it would never be able to be removed. She was certain I was surviving in California as an organic potato farmer and was spending my days toiling away digging them up!
I did show up for her very classy and oh so proper wedding in Pittsburgh. I was the hippie friend from California who did, in fact, have dirt under her fingernails and was clothed pretty heavily in threads from Guatemala and trailing a cloud of Patchouli. I even rewrote the words to a Grateful Dead song to serenade the betrothed at the rehearsal dinner because I felt I had to live up to my reputation. I also was aghast that there was nothing for me to eat at either her rehearsal dinner or the wedding reception (I WAS A VEGAN, DAMN IT!! ...gosh I can be so very very rude!). All of that is still great fodder for both of us when we get together these days. Lydia, she of the glorious boobs, has not allowed me to forget my days as a dirty smelly hippie.
However, I'm still that girl. Somewhere inside. I still hug trees. While the smell of Patchouli makes me gag now, I still will don the occasional sundress stiched together from patches of woven Guatemalen fabrics. Especially when the Oregon Country Fair roles around.
I also believe that as a steward of the planet, it's important for me to use at least some plot of my own yard to attempt to grow my own organic vegetables. Not just to feed myself, but to share with my neighbors, too. More importantly, it's important to save the seeds. We're becoming such a mono-culture. Our legacy, our seeds, are disappearing at an alarming rate and we're losing the varieties of amazing foods that truly feed our souls.
If I can, I will not allow that to happen. I've been a huge supporter of Seeds of Change since its inception. Through a rather odd course of events that seem to make up the fabric of the story of my life, I actually am friends with the folks who started Seeds of Change. I believe in the mission of that company and all the small farmers it supports.
Earlier this week, with my variety of seeds in hand, I planted a garden in my backyard. A rather large garden. Of course I planted four varieties of beets. Here come the beets! But I also planted entire rows of micro greens since I am such a huge fan of those in my salads. I planted pumpkins (two different kinds) and many squashes and beans and tomatoes. I planted a variety of carrots (purple!) and onions, too. We can't forget that I'm a Master Herbalist, so I also took this opportunity to try my hand at growing my own organic herbs. I chose to grow the ones that I need to purchase most often for my teas. Chamomile, Echinecea, Goldenrod, Lavender, Calendula and Yarrow.
It felt so good to dig up the dirt. It felt even better to get my hands really dirty. To have that black earth under my fingernails. To smell it. To know that the seeds I was planting might, if I'm careful and tend them with love, actually grow into lovely vegetables and flowers and fruits that I can share with my friends.
Share with my friends.
I urge you, if you have even the smallest inkling, to get out there and plant some seeds. To grow what makes you happy. To cultivate life. And to share the bounty with your friends.
