Similar Posts
State of the Garden
I think during World War II, backyard gardens supplied something on the order of 40 percent (don’t quote me on this) of the nation’s produce. Were we to do that, how much it might contribute to alleviating any shortages–with so much of our food from beyond closing borders.
How might it help shift our growing climate imbalance and social inequality and the hideous chaos it unleashes? Wouldn’t growing some of your own food be a healthy strategy?
The generous harvest from today’s garden all came up from prior year plantings. I may joke about how many variations of greens and grains and pulses I can come up with, but the greens are from my back garden, bursting with nutrients, and everything else is a long storage pantry item (including in recent years, dried beans, for having grown enough of them). Most anything else is a luxury. I can go a long time between trips to the grocery store and still have well-flavored, healthy, and inexpensive meals.

Gifts of Onions (and Eternal Truth)
A couple of weeks ago, a good friend gave me a box of perfect vidalia onions. She had been given two boxes. She said, “These onions were so good; I wanted to give them to someone who would truly appreciate them. I first thought of you.” I was delighted, “yes, I’d love some vidalias.” They are exquisite. I’ve been making delicate sautes, grilling them, dicing them into salads, and marveling at their sweetness. I passed a few on to others that both would fully appreciate the onions as a culinary matter and also know my friend, who is a former co-worker.
Last night I went to take class at Willow Street and was talking a little with the work study students at the desk after class before heading home. “Would you like some onions?” asked one of the work study students, who does great work with the Fresh Farm Markets around town. “Oh, how lovely, no, no thank you,” I replied, “A friend just gave me a box of vidalia onions and I have shallots, baby leeks, spring onions, and garlic chives in my garden.” “I think you have enough in the allium family already,” she agreed, “would you like a cucumber?” “A cucumber? Yes, that would be great. I’ve only gotten one ripe one so far; they aren’t liking the cool wet.” She gave me a cucumber and a zucchini from a farm visit she had done that morning, which made my evening (I am so easily pleased).
This morning I wondered about these offers of onions. It is not as though it is a regular thing for me twice in a space of a couple of weeks to be given bounteous offers of exquisite onions. Did it mean something?
Onion comes from the same latin root as “union.” Unlike garlic, in whose family onions belong, onions grow a single, undivided bulb, which is the likely reason for the development of the word onion. From sketchy researching on the internet, I find onions are also the symbol of “good” and fullness — hence the onion domes in architecture. The ancient Egyptions thought the onion a symbol of eternity (layer upon layer of being) and truth. Yes, I like thinking these onions (those I took home and those that were gifted instead, no doubt, to some other appreciative soul) were meant to bring me to think of good, of union, of the eternal truth in gifts and shared pleasure in sharing delicious, healing, fresh food with friends.
- Community and Family | Dance/Contact Improvisation | Food for the Mind (Yoga Philosophy, etc) | Gardening | Photos
Neighborhood Walkabout (and Concealment and Revelation)
First I spent a couple of hours in the garden, then I walked to the grocery store and the pet supply shop. The next walk was a loop first to the hardware store and then to the farmers’ market for fruit and eggs.
The last walks were round trip to the Sunday contact improv jam. I mostly did asana in the corner, which is not really dancing, but nobody seemed to mind.
On the way home I extended the walk to do one last errand. The weather was perfect. Gardens everywhere bright and lush from the unusual rain.





