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“…It takes time to grow food. You can’t grow food in a panic. It takes planning.”
So said Michael Levenston of City Farmer, on the eve of the year 2000, otherwise known as Y2K - the year of panic.
That wisdom is just as relevant now as it was then, although perhaps in a slightly different setting. We don’t expect (at least most of the time) to wake up tomorrow morning to a world that’s suddenly reverted fifty years in technology.
There are other concerns right now, though. One would have to be blind to not notice that the price of groceries have gone up drastically over the last few months.
We can’t control the price of food, but we can control how much of it we buy. A home garden can make a definite difference in how much you need to buy.
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It was thirty-five years ago; I had an eighteen-month-old daughter and was newly pregnant with my second child. Husband Norm and I had just moved from Rapid City, South Dakota to Australia and were settling in. Norm was a teacher; I was a homemaker and didn’t know many people at all.At a teacher’s evening get-together, one of the wives asked me if I liked being in Tumut, the town we had moved to. I replied that I loved it but was bored, as I didn’t know many people. She, Margaret, asked me what I liked doing and I told her that I liked crafts like sewing and embroidery.
Margaret, who later became my closest friend, told me there was a guild that met every week that perhaps I would be interested in checking out. She offered to babysit my daughter, Joy, while I went to a meeting to see what was going on.
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It never fails — no matter how early or late it happens, that first moment when I see that flash of blue…hear that soft, watery warble and finally register that there are a dozen or more Bluebirds in my front yard, for a split second, I can barely breathe.
Journal Entry - February 1st ‘08
The Bluebirds are here! This is the earliest they’ve ever arrived and the ground is frozen! I need to get a rush order placed with Grubco and run to Petsmart for a couple of little cartons of mealworms to tide us over!
Last month, I wrote about “new traditions,” and although I still think of “deep winter” in terms of things I grew up with many miles north of here, there is no denying that here in the Mid-Atlantic, the arrival of the first flock of hearty little balls of winged blue fluff has become part of February into March that is a testament to the natural knowing of animals. Whether they read signs that point to winter ending soon can only be conjecture; but it’s been proven that Eastern Bluebirds do know, from one season to the next, where they can expect to find safe nesting places and where there is likely to be food. In the seven years I’ve owned this land, the collection of nest boxes has burgeoned from one to six, and in the months when they arrive while the ground is either frozen or covered with snow, there are emergency provisions offered up in ceramic plant saucers that are always emptied by day’s end.
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