Two sisters, two urban gardens, and a question: How much of our families' food can we produce ourselves?
Moving toward sustainability on urban farms
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Most days, the garden is a haven of peace. I can hear the chickens clucking, the bees buzzing, the distant traffic, sometimes the sound of a piano being played inside, but it's pretty quiet, relatively speaking.
Then there are mornings like this one, when I'm wearing portable music. It was as though someone from a movie had made up the list -- Bonnie Raitt's "Angel from Montgomery," to remind me that I'm going to get old, but dreams go on and on; the mystic musings of The Waterboys, because soil and water and sun make magic that can be approached but not ever mastered; the screaming political Irish speed punk of Flogging Molly, a call to activism, and I certainly count growing food and reusing water as activist acts, albeit quiet ones; and finishing up, U2's "Wild Honey," that paean to desire and sweetness.
And I danced wildly past the beans and tomatoes, twirled around the zinnias, and air-guitared by the basil, and reflected that quiet and peace have their place, but so do pounding pulsing beats.
I send you flowers Could flowers thaw you heart I know your garden is full But is there sweetness at all . . .