I'm currently reading Kimmerer's work, "Braiding Sweetgrass," and I'm finding that her words are so timely and so needed. The upswing in chaos, violence, and hate that we've seen in recent weeks will not disappear because of one small garden on a remote part of an isolated reservation. But, I'm not willing to accept that hatred and violence should be the basis of the headlines or that small acts of peace should go unnoticed.
Fortunately, the La Plant garden allows me to embrace the place and space and adds a richness to my life, as I hope it does for the kids of La Plant. Sorry if this sounds too white person-myopic - it's not meant to at all. As I've written about in the past, I cannot even begin to know what it is to be Native, or African American, Muslim or any other ethnicity, religious sect, or population who must exist and endure with the ever-present threat or possibility of violence to their physical person or their children.
One garden does not erase the enormous injustices and brutalities in this world. But, we can use the concept of a garden as a way to treat one another as, well, equals and return to civility and humility. Through the garden, we learn to respect the interactions between the things we can't control - namely, Mother Nature - and the fruits of our nurturing to enjoy the food that we grow and eat. We can listen to the sounds of buzzing bees, children laughing, and the rush of water hitting the soil and seeds. By observing, listening, and absorbing, we have the capacity to become more centered, more focused on obstacles and on differences of opinions, more open to speaking to one another, and try to deeply understand our purpose to live as better people.
This time, I'll let a few photos speak for the past month and a half on the Reservation, filled with blooming potatoes, kid-run garden tours, turnip foraging, the beginning of sweet carrots and sugar snap peas, and, yeah, I'll go there: hope.
Captions: (1) the first flush of arugula (2) a cucumber seedling emerges (3) the greenhouse, June 12, 2016 (4) early morning light in mid-summer greenhouse, July 9, 2016 (5) the first tomato flowers, June 16, 2016 (6) radishes! (7) young garlic check (8) first big greens harvest, June 19, 2016 (9) added art to the greenhouse (10) Winter’s first harvest, June 21, 2016 (11) finally found: a prairie turnip (12+13) foraging with Lakota elder, Ford Hill (14+15) potatoes, pre- and post-bloom (16) the open Plains (17) my garden assistant, sowing climbing bean seeds in our newly opened field! (18) the jalapeños make an appearance, July 1, 2016 (19) the first summer squash emerges, July 4, 2016 (20) carrot check, July 4, 2016 (21) the green garden, July 5, 2016 (22) prickly pear cactus, hiding among the prairie grasses (23) climbing sugar snap pea tendrils, climbing (24) wildflowers at the Missouri River (25) a welcoming squash blossom, July 8, 2016 (26) Sergio, my kid garden assistant and resident tour guide, doing his thing with confidence…and an iron fist!
An excellent op-ed about how the health of Lake Champlain is directly tied to our historical agricultural waste problem in the U.S., and a call to action about soil restoration. In sum: Displacing actual sh*t doesn't make a food system more efficient!