Yesterday, my wife and I began our frail re-seeding efforts in the pastures. We, to twist a phrase, plant seeds and grow happiness. There are storyworthy tales that seem too simple to be shared or voiced, but this one grew and grew until it leaped like an arc of inoculated seed from hand to field. In this case a digital paper pasture, a blog post.
We sow new seed every spring,
new to our pastures anyway.
I like to think we are trying
to add adaptability to our pastures,
but we are really just sowing chaos.
It is a lovely, piratical exercise,
a guerilla action against the staid and tried and true fescue
and orchard grass
and ryegrass
and white clovers,
a grassy de-colonization.
I walk to the field
with hands full of seed,
brimming with DNA,
most of which will be wasted
because that is how seeds work–
Berseem Clover, NZ White Clover, perennial ryerass, Chicory–
I grip inoculated seed
and billions of bacteria,
I cast in arcs of life onto bare patchs.
And then it rained
all gentle
and settling.
Thinking back,
Like most routines, it ended up OK, even pleasant.
So very pleasant.
On a farm Spring is either coming or just temporarily in abeyance. Pan, my man, Pan. The daft daffs are already poking themselves out and the hellebores are blooming and the willow buds are bursting with an odd flower or two.
Your poem made me think of the cycle that farmers repeat every year, doing the same things, at the same time, for the same purpose. Occasionally they will try new ideas, based on what they have been learning from others. They never get tired, or give up. They just keep on farming.
I think of my work in a similar way. I’m planting seeds, trying to grow influence and actions. There’s a seasonal nature to this, too. In the fall we’re recruiting kids and volunteers. From then on we’re nurturing the crop (supporting kids/volunteers). In December we’re trying to raise money to pay for next year’s work. In February we’re planting a new crop, recruiting new volunteers to replace those who have dropped out. In April/May we’re celebrating work done, learning from our efforts, and those of others, then starting the cycle over again in the fall.
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Signs of the coming Spring?
Kevin
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On a farm Spring is either coming or just temporarily in abeyance. Pan, my man, Pan. The daft daffs are already poking themselves out and the hellebores are blooming and the willow buds are bursting with an odd flower or two.
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Your poem made me think of the cycle that farmers repeat every year, doing the same things, at the same time, for the same purpose. Occasionally they will try new ideas, based on what they have been learning from others. They never get tired, or give up. They just keep on farming.
I think of my work in a similar way. I’m planting seeds, trying to grow influence and actions. There’s a seasonal nature to this, too. In the fall we’re recruiting kids and volunteers. From then on we’re nurturing the crop (supporting kids/volunteers). In December we’re trying to raise money to pay for next year’s work. In February we’re planting a new crop, recruiting new volunteers to replace those who have dropped out. In April/May we’re celebrating work done, learning from our efforts, and those of others, then starting the cycle over again in the fall.
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I wrote a seedless blog post….no seasons, an allegory.
‘I walk to the field’
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http://wentalearn.blogspot.com/2024/02/how-do-you-plant-garden-without-any.html