As with any garden, there is a beginning. Really, there is a thought -- the first unnoticed impulse of desire to grow sustenance out of the deep brown dirt with your own hands and hard work. How powerful in its simplicity! Vegetables!
In my childhood, it certainly never occurred to me that I would have a hobby farm complete with chickens. No way. I moved out from suburban Minnesota to New York City at the ripe old age of 20, bound for the Great White Way. And, just try to convince me then that I would find myself and my spirit amongst the quiet fibers of sugar snap peas, climbing their way up a trellis toward their own whispered goal. Where's the applause of an adoring audience, for Pete's sake?! For that matter, it never occurred to me in my youth that I would care so much about food at all. I had chicken nuggets with honey mustard sauce and bags of whittled-down baby carrots. I had boxed mini-doughnuts. Who could ask for anything more?
But, I do recall the farmers' wives on the corner by the gas station when I was eight years old, selling their corn and thinking it was the best day of summer as I sunk my gapped teeth into a buttered ear of succulent yellow deliciousness. So, perhaps this is no great surprise after all.
What was my first thought - the one that ignited a spark under my tooshie to build and rebuild my life through the slow, cyclical methodology of gardening? I can't honestly remember. First, I was enamored with artichokes back in 1996 when I first moved to the big city. I don't think I'd ever seen one up close until then. I'd never had my nails manicured either. Then, my chef-friend Dan who introduced me to tastes I couldn't wrap my head around. Then, tragedy -- and the comfort of Betsy's inviting home and baked enchiladas. My children, growing up supermarket-style and needing connection to something greater than themselves. My own need.
Post #1: An introduction to my blog. Not sure where this is going or if anyone will find it useful. I have the feeling this is just about as crazy as my little garden adventure. But, I'll write it anyway. Why not? Plant a seed and see if it grows into something marvelous.
Wishful Thinking Farm is the eighth-acre of my back yard currently designated for raising myself and my family along with two rescue dogs, six baby chicks, a pot of Chocolate Beauty Bell Peppers and rows of radishes. It is the space in my soul where I am free to cultivate any silly dream, to get good and dirty, to get a wild hair up my ass, and to see the best in a world that doesn't always seem to live up to its promise. It's where I am reminded that happiness is as simple as a wisp of dill. So, let this garden grow!
I think tonight I will commend my first blog-wish as I do each and every night with my husband and four kids: I wish for peace. And, I wish to have a good time with this adventure in slightly-Pagan culinary techno-literature.