Babies
Everybody is making love
Or else expecting rain
And the good samaritan, he’s dressing
He’s getting ready for the show
He’s going to the carnival tonight
On desolation row.
-Bob Dylan
Went to another baby shower yesterday. It seems sometimes that a person could do nothing but go to baby showers in this neck of the woods and still have a very full social calendar. Fear not, though. I am well-armed with packages of baby booties and fleeces and onesies and blankets and mittens and plastic things. I never attend a baby shower empty handed.
The conversation centered on, well, babies. And birthing. And lactating.
On occasion, it turned to farming, and hovered there for just a moment or two and then returned to birthing.
Greenhouses were the favorite topic, as they should be this time of year. Everyone present recited lists of what has been started and what still needs to be. People exchanged heating tips and cooling tips. We talked of potting soil and plastic containers. J* has a house full of flower blossoms - stuff she's forced in the greenhouse. It looks like Venus. Or a jungle in someplace like Brazil.
A* has a home. A* is the wandering, homeless farmer. She finds a place, grows the most beautiful garden you've ever seen in your life, then moves on. Then starts over, spends another year loading gorgeous vegetables on her table week after week, and then moves on. Land prices are high in these parts, and they're only going to get higher. A* has never been able to afford her own place, and if anyone deserves a place of her own, it's A*.
Some farms are expanding their operations. Some are shrinking. Some are making a valiant economic stand, some are losing money. Most just drift along, subsidized by a "farmer's" other insome sources.
P* is joining our market this year. P*'s another youngster with a star next to his name. He grows really good-looking food and piles it on his table every week. It's going to be fun setting up next to him every week. He's on rented land, too, so his fortunes, like A*'s, are tied to the moods of rich landlords.
No one said it would be easy.
A few of the CSA are expanding - an extra ten members or so. (They're hopelessly old-fashioned, as you all know. We here at Let It Grow have seen the future.)
We found a meat vendor for our Saturday market. I find that to be exciting, because it follows my idea of having all food groups represented at the market, and of having every possible recipe ingredient available, or a reasonable facsimile thereof. They're new, and untested, but I hope they do okay.
Our last meat vendor suffered the whims and changing moods of rich landlords.
The honey guy will still be there. Stable, is a good word for him.
B* will be there, with a mountain of food. Stable, too.
And the fish will be coming up twice a week. (Stay tuned to this space for more fish adventures. In fact, I might start a fish oriented sister blog. Help me with a title.)
Speaking of fish, I may be heading down to the coast soon to save some endangered woodpeckers. Depends upon when my surgery gets scheduled for. It'll have to be soon, though (the surgery and the woodpecker trip,) my greenhouse is getting full.
Or else expecting rain
And the good samaritan, he’s dressing
He’s getting ready for the show
He’s going to the carnival tonight
On desolation row.
-Bob Dylan
Went to another baby shower yesterday. It seems sometimes that a person could do nothing but go to baby showers in this neck of the woods and still have a very full social calendar. Fear not, though. I am well-armed with packages of baby booties and fleeces and onesies and blankets and mittens and plastic things. I never attend a baby shower empty handed.
The conversation centered on, well, babies. And birthing. And lactating.
On occasion, it turned to farming, and hovered there for just a moment or two and then returned to birthing.
Greenhouses were the favorite topic, as they should be this time of year. Everyone present recited lists of what has been started and what still needs to be. People exchanged heating tips and cooling tips. We talked of potting soil and plastic containers. J* has a house full of flower blossoms - stuff she's forced in the greenhouse. It looks like Venus. Or a jungle in someplace like Brazil.
A* has a home. A* is the wandering, homeless farmer. She finds a place, grows the most beautiful garden you've ever seen in your life, then moves on. Then starts over, spends another year loading gorgeous vegetables on her table week after week, and then moves on. Land prices are high in these parts, and they're only going to get higher. A* has never been able to afford her own place, and if anyone deserves a place of her own, it's A*.
Some farms are expanding their operations. Some are shrinking. Some are making a valiant economic stand, some are losing money. Most just drift along, subsidized by a "farmer's" other insome sources.
P* is joining our market this year. P*'s another youngster with a star next to his name. He grows really good-looking food and piles it on his table every week. It's going to be fun setting up next to him every week. He's on rented land, too, so his fortunes, like A*'s, are tied to the moods of rich landlords.
No one said it would be easy.
A few of the CSA are expanding - an extra ten members or so. (They're hopelessly old-fashioned, as you all know. We here at Let It Grow have seen the future.)
We found a meat vendor for our Saturday market. I find that to be exciting, because it follows my idea of having all food groups represented at the market, and of having every possible recipe ingredient available, or a reasonable facsimile thereof. They're new, and untested, but I hope they do okay.
Our last meat vendor suffered the whims and changing moods of rich landlords.
The honey guy will still be there. Stable, is a good word for him.
B* will be there, with a mountain of food. Stable, too.
And the fish will be coming up twice a week. (Stay tuned to this space for more fish adventures. In fact, I might start a fish oriented sister blog. Help me with a title.)
Speaking of fish, I may be heading down to the coast soon to save some endangered woodpeckers. Depends upon when my surgery gets scheduled for. It'll have to be soon, though (the surgery and the woodpecker trip,) my greenhouse is getting full.
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