As I head into my second full year of gardening, I thought I would put together an all new blog for the occasion. As many readers will already be aware, my interest in gardening is primarily food related. I want to grow things to eat. I like having things which look nice, and flowers are great, but I'm in this for the food. After moving into the house a couple years ago (has it been that long already?) I was finally able to start putting my money where my mouth is, and growing my own food. I'm of the opinion that the best food is fresh and local, and even better when you've grown it yourself. This opinion is a result of too many environmental ethics classes, and too much Michael Pollan. Find some great reading here, here, and here.
The title of this blog refers to the hope that local practices such as this can truly transform how we live, and the world we live in. Gardening is not, as I see it, very difficult, and it doesn't have to be time- or resource-intensive either. It can be done in tiny planters on a balcony or back step, as well as in huge beds. It is a rewarding past-time, and can be adjusted to whatever difficulty or scale is desired. I see planted, cared for beds all over my neighborhood. Places where gardeners enjoy taking the time to care for plants. If those gardeners would just replace a single flower with a tomato plant, hundreds of pounds of local tomatoes would be grown every year, in just a few block radius. How did victory gardens go out of style anyway? Imagine the impact on our food chain if this simple act of gardening were undertaken in a widespread fashion. It would profoundly transform our planet.
It also refers to the truly astounding process by which the mud of my backyard is transformed into delicious, nourishing food for my family table. Every day, month, year, constantly, we gobble down food, and scarcely notice the true wonder that is a carrot. No less a miracle of creation than human life, and indeed, a process fundamentally intertwined with our own existence. We are not just going to return to the dust, not just going to go back to ashes; no, we are always dust, always ashes. That we are anything else, anything divine or exceptional, is just a temporary delusion of humankind. I eat the mud out of my backyard, and it is delicious for body and mind.
So here's the pledge. This year, at least a post a week. My progress, my success, my setbacks. Maybe friends and family will read it and know something of my efforts. Maybe I'll inspire someone to start their own garden. Maybe it will just be a record for me of my own journey. In any case, I'm sure it will be fun.
