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What a Difference a Month Makes

ByElizabeth

Here’s an aerial view of the back garden on the equinox after I spent several hours cleaning, deadheading, repotting, mulching, etc.  As you can see, the moss is ecstatic from having had the weight of the snow on it for several weeks.  Coming up in quantities almost enough to pick are lettuce, spinach, cilantro, parsley, chives, onions, lemon balm (always have too much of that — if you’re local let me know if you want some).  The first rosebud emerged sometime between Friday and Sunday.  It is hard to believe that just a month ago, I was blogging about indoor gardening — how to find delight even when snowed under (scroll to the bottom of the linked post to compare pictures of the same view).

As you can see from comparing the two photos, things were still growing under the snow or getting ready to do so.  That is what practice is like for me.  Sometimes I feel completely snowed under by an injury or rush jobs at work or personal circumstances beyond my control.  I keep practicing, but I don’t have the time or energy for long practices or full weekend workshops, when it is easy to get to a place of delight.  Other times, things are less pressured, and I feel brimming over with health.  Then practice feels wildly effulgent.  For my garden to offer its full potential (as is true with my practice), I need to spend lots of time and effort in it for the next several weeks.  I know that if I do so, I will be blessed with fullness.

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    Coincidence or Correlation (and Overnight Cinnamon Apple Oatmeal)

    ByElizabeth

    On my way to and from work, I watched the buds and blooms–some brown, some bravely hanging on, some withering around the edges and starting to wilt; the cherries–mostly in bud or just starting to open–that haven’t fully blasted yet, will do so by the end of the cold period following the storm.

    I’ve seen years when the cherry blossoms were torn from the trees at their lushest by a violent storm coming through with a cold front and and years when a spring snow added to the blossoms and years when the blossoms were well before or after the parade.  I haven’t seen a year in my over 30 years here, where the blossoms just died from a weirdly early false spring followed by a winter storm with bitter cold.  I am sure it is just coincidence and not correlation that this sorry withering of the loveliest part of Washington spring happened this at this particular time.

    In the meantime, I am certain that I will need to go out first thing in the morning to shovel and then will need to turn on my computer and go to work.  I’m sure I will find the snow (when I am not thinking about the impact on flowering and fruiting perennials), even the shoveling, invigorating and somewhat enjoyable.  To provide nourishment that takes into account the extra exercise and how the shoveling time will impact my usual morning routine, tonight after washing up, I put up overnight apple oatmeal.  Into the slow cooker went a couple of diced apples, a handful of raisins, steel cut oats, cinnamon, a bit of butter, and a dash of salt.  When I wake up, It will smell something like apple crisp, and it will be just the thing to fuel snow shoveling.  With the extra, I will make muffins for later in the week.

  • Native Seed Search

    ByElizabeth

    One of the delights of my trip to Tucson, was visiting the Native Seed Search’s shop.  Native Seed Search works to gather, safeguard, and distribute native and adapted seeds to farming and gardening communities, and to educate farmers and gardeners about the uses of those seeds.  When I go to Tucson, I make sure to visit the shop (so much more fun than shopping on-line) to buy unique varieties of peppers and beans for cooking.

    The first time I went — three years ago — I did not buy any seeds.  I was not certain that I should be bringing seeds from the southwest to DC for planting.  This year, after the last two years of heat and drought, I bought a few varieties of southwestern greens and some pink green beans to try in containers.  I had a good chat with the workers in the shop about shifting what we plant as the climate changes even as we might otherwise try to avoid bringing new species into the area.

    I went small with this experiment.  As long as I do not let the amaranth (to eat as greens not grain) go to seed and pick the beans to eat or replant, nothing will spread.  It will be interesting to observe if these plants require less water or tolerate more heat here than the greens and beans we are more accustomed to planting.

    It was also wonderful, on this icy cold day, to take the seed packets out of my bag in anticipation of spring.  Planting season for cool weather greens, etc (etc meaning beets, turnips, and radishes) is only a couple of weeks away.

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    Yoga Is Skill In Action

    ByElizabeth

    I’m spending the weekend via Zoom with Michelle Johnson, for a “Skill in Action” retreat, where she is creating and holding the space for exploring how we individually and collectively can act to bring more communal justice, through anti-racist action, in our own lives, in the yoga community, and in society. She has been doing anti-racism work for 20 years, and has been practicing yoga and teaching since 2009. She published “Skill in Action,” in 2018. I read it several months ago. She said that she was flooded with orders the weekend after George Floyd was murdered.

    What changed? Was it the confluence with the pandemic? Will we engage enough to make this an opportunity for lasting change or will those who are least impacted get weary or bored? What can would be allies do to help make it the former and not the latter?

    I’m up late writing this after having spent a couple of hours dancing around and getting ready for tomorrow and contemplating and, of course, playing with Maitri.

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