Greetings Friends and Neighbors, Soaking Rains bookend the first true kiss of Summer heat, and suddenly sluggish garden plants spill out into the walking paths. Chervil, Savory, Thyme, Oregano, Mint, Chives, Fennel, Coriander and Rosemary elongate aromatically. Mustards unfurl in ruffled greens. Cabbages spread in veined purples and blues. Radicchio begs to be admired, colorfully. Pole Beans break the Soil surface with bent necks, like pale-green Swans waking from slumber. Poison Ivy re-sprouts in the midst of all of this, undeterred by the hay mulch, and so I bend down to pull the glossy red shoots with gloved fingers, to ensure they don’t end up in the salad bowl by accident. I walked into this riot after four days away, driving South down the wide, congested highways of the East Coast to gather with extended family for the first time since the arrival of the Virus. I’ve been to the beach and back. The land and the broad, brackish River there carry a memory of the original, now-displaced human inhabitants:
I am so glad that we are neighbors and I will help in anyway possible to share your mission and nurture the soil for a stronger more resilient community!
I am so glad that we are neighbors and I will help in anyway possible to share your mission and nurture the soil for a stronger more resilient community!
So much wisdom and generosity here.
Beautifully written Adam. Thanks for turning "afford" on its head. I'll be thinking differently now about what I afford myself and to my community.