Spring is popping here in Southern Oregon. ’Tis the season of yanking spent greens out of the greenhouse beds and sowing fresh seeds. Earlier plantings in adjacent beds are now a few inches high, with new waves of baby arugula ready for picking. Outside beds are seeded with carrots, beets, chicories, cabbage, leeks, and onions. The two large beds of garlic are thriving at a foot tall. And this is just the beginning.
I’m a total garden hack. I know enough to grow some food, but I lack the deep knowledge carried by so many local organic farmers and gardeners in this valley. Luckily for me, and for the garden, I don’t have to go it alone.
I share this land with my parents and our neighbor, who I’ll call Betty. (She is shy and may not want her name splattered all over my story.) This spring, my friend Evelyn came aboard and co-gardens with us, so five people are working and sharing the bounty of this communal space. Betty and Evelyn are both outstanding gardeners, and it shows in the greenhouse and field.
When the greens are flush, we call the neighbors, “Hey, the greenhouse is about to bolt. Come pick.” They ride bikes over in the afternoon or pop in before supper to harvest lettuce, mesclun greens, and spinach. The chickens started laying prolifically, so those same neighbors got a fresh supply of eggs. When chickweed is pulled from between the rows of spinach and lettuce plants, it gets tossed in a bucket. I feed the chickens whatever I don’t eat in my own salads. They go bonkers for it. Their dark yellow, rich yolks are divine, and I believe chickweed and freedom to roam are the secret.
This way of living is simple, a lot of work, sometimes overwhelming, always gratifying. I bounce between spending a lot of hours on the computer doing freelance work for income, and getting my hands dirty on the land. Balance has never been my forte, but the spring-time pull to be outside is keeping the screen-time in check.
For instance, a thick frost coats the grass in the meadow right now as daylight swells in the east. Pink clouds brush over the horizon and even before coffee, a strong urge bundles me up and sends me out the door. I turn my head to the sky, close my eyes, inhale the brisk air, and then watch as my breath spirals out and up to meet the morning which is so beautiful I can’t even put it into words.
I love this life, this land, this community, my pod of people. May every Being on Planet Earth feel this sense of peace. You may say I’m a dreamer. But I’m not the only one….