Seeds and community

Yesterday there was a seed swap nearby. It was hosted by a group of people (of which I'm one) who are interested in all things food, here where we are planted. It's interesting to meet people whose passion is growing vegetables and fruits and flowers and cooking and eating well. They seem to be a generous bunch; willing to give away their seeds and their knowledge to others who are interested. And they seem to be the busiest people; the same people who get called on when something needs to get done whether it is serving on the PTA or organizing a fundraiser to help out a neighbor in need. Some of these people have deep roots in this area, their families having been here since the 1800s. Others, like me are transplants who have been here for a while. Still others are transplants in process, perhaps in transition or planning to be in transition. But everyone seems to love idea of growing foods and flowers near home. Some haven't quite gotten to the point of loving the actuality of it, but they are enthusiastic and ready to roll up their sleeves.

A message for IC: take a hike!

So much time passes between posts even though there are things flying through my mind that I think "hmmm.....I should write about that." But my Inner Critic steps up and loudly pooh-poohs the idea as something unworthy of attention. It is always looking for the perfect rather than accepting the thought that is trying to come into focus. Or the idea that might just be a good one if shared and explored. Then later, after time has passed, and someone else has offered an imperfectly formed thought or shared an idea that was built on and refined, I am angry at myself for sitting silently, yet again letting IC win.

The small bit of good news is that I'm not alone. The better bit of news is that it's occurred to me that with every post I make, IC (which has had a lifetime to do a heck of good job of blooming where she is planted) becomes a bit weaker. I think IC as a she because, well, it just sounds like it. (Even now as I write this, she's critiquing...."that is so stupid, saying an IC has a gender"....) Anyway, I know I'm not alone in trying to shove a permanent sock in my critic's mouth because there are all kinds of articles, websites, worshops and assorted other resources devoted to the subject. And they aren't all from the right brain crowd. Even the Wall Street Journal has covered the topic! So if the left brainers are concerned, it must be mainstream, right? (Hmmm....looking for mainstream legitimacy is a bit of a win for IC, isn't it? Sheesh!)

More work to do....

Bring Back Special (or keep it where it exists...)

It's occurred to me more than once that I miss the sense of something being "special" that I grew up with. That thing or experience that was only available infrequently and whose appearance would create excitement. And the anticipation of it's arrival was almost as pleasant as the thing or experience itself. In my family one such special thing was Coke and 7-Up.

Suppliers or vendors to my the company where my father worked as a bookkeeper would send holiday gifts to him. I suppose it was to thank him for sending their checks promptly. I never really thought about why he would bring home the gifts. There were hams and towels (yes, bath towel sets) and more. But the one I appreciated the most was the company that sent a case of 12 oz bottles (green glass of course) of Coca-Cola and another case of 7-Up. These were as sure a sign of the Christmas season as the lights on the street or the tree in the living room. 

Once a year I indulged in drinking soft drinks that were never in the house other times. Or if they were I didn't know about it. Having a glass of Coke was as much a treat as opening gifts on Christmas eve. I would open bottles for my parents to pour glasses for the aunts and uncles who visited then but not during the year. Or to add to the occasional mixed drink that called for them. And my mother would make a wonderful 7-Up cake. The cases of Coke and 7-Up meant that visits were coming; that a turkey dinner wasn't far off and that the year was coming to a close. All these special memories just from two cases of soft drinks. The gifts went on until he retired...more than 15 years that I remember and possibly longer. 

Today I can have a Coke whenever I want. Wherever I want. It's nothing special. And more's the pity. Few things seem to really be special in a world of worldwide brands and franchises. Of sameness and uniformity. Maybe that's why the idea of maintaining the unique character of this place where I've elected to plant myself is so much a part of my thinking. Keeping the specialness of this "here" and not looking to yet another "there". I do worry though. It seems that to many people it is comforting to see the same things no matter where they go. And putting them in special places when they are not there....so that the place becomes nothing special.