I've caught the gardening bug.

In church today, we read Mark 4: 1-20. That's the one about the seeds getting sowed on different types of soil. Some on the road, some on rocky soil, some in the thorns, and finally some in good soil. The preacher pointed out that this is her favorite parable since it is the only one that Jesus explains point blank. Guess he just must have gotten tired of the confused stares from the crowd. A dude can only take so much.

The cool part was that she spent a good part of the sermon talking about what makes the good soil so good. It has to have the right pH level (between 6.5 and 6.9 apparently). It has to be loosely packed. It's got to have lots of organic material and nutrients.

Now, I know what she was going for. She eventually asked the metaphorical, "what kind of soil am I?", question. But the whole time all I could think about is my desire to grab a shovel and dig into some very non-metaphorical dirt of my own.

I know where this urge is coming from. I am reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver and it has quite taken over my thoughts. It is about the author and her family spending a year living off their garden and only products grown in their county. She recounts the joys of picking the first tomatoes, the day the cherries ripen, and eating the eggs carefully watched over by her youngest daughter. It makes me want to quit my job and go full time into food production.

I think I might have to settle for trying to run an after school garden with my kids. Challenge 1) finding a place to put said garden. The maintenance staff at school doesn't seem to thrilled with the idea, but I'll try batting my eyelashes a little more next week. If not a school, I have an idea of someone off campus who might let us dig in their dirt. Challenge 2) I have no idea how to start a garden in New England. There is still 2 feet of snow on the ground, so I'm assuming it's going to have to wait till mid-March at least. But that's why they invented libraries and master gardeners. I'll see if I can find a couple of each.

Anyway, I really hope this works out. I don't know what else to do with all this garden fever. I'll keep you updated as my veget-itis progresses.

Working on nature's time.

Tonight was a total lunar eclipse. If you are reading this, and it is still Wednesday night, look out the window! It is truly a sight to behold, one that I will never get sick of.

My roommate, Jodi, and I sat by the river to watch the first part of the show. It is amazing to me how slowly the world moves in those moments. I run around crazy all day, worrying and stressing, then come home and sit by the river in the cold. The ice on the river snaps and cracks in the background. I could have sat out there all night watching the sun, earth, and moon dance.

But tomorrow I need to be rested enough to run around, stress, and worry again. So, goodnight!

click here

Biofuels Deemed a Greenhouse Threat

An interesting article from the New York Times. Basically, two new studies have come out showing that, in total, biodiesel produces more greenhouse emissions that fossil fuels. That counts the energy used to convert the land, the fact that cropland absorbs far less carbon than the rain forests or scrubland that it replaces, and the energy used to process the corn into fuel. Very interesting...

Seems like the answer is to change our life style, not just change our fuel source.

Check the article out here.

I'm not going to pretend that I don't pick my nose...

While I'm in a sharing mood, I love this video by Ani Difranco...

Feast of Saint Brigid

Well, happy groundhog day. I guess I am reading enough blogs now that I picked up on this. In honor of the Feast of Saint Brigid, today is the third blogger's Silent Poetry Reading. I like the idea, so here is my poem(s).

What is this?

I walk out
and look up at the sky.
Billions of points light up the night.
Even though there is no moon
or sun in the sky,
I can see my shadow on the ground.
The points seem
like paint splattered on a wall,
but I can see patterns.
The patterns are my own:
a five pointed star among the stars,
a smiling face,
a glass of water,
a dog,
my mom,
my dad.
The patterns appear and are gone
as soon as I name them.
I couldn’t show you
even if you were here,
standing next to me.
Because they are mine.
And you have your own.
Just as secret,
just as private,
just as indescribable.
What is this?

I’m sitting on the grass
underneath a large tree.
I don’t know what kind of tree it is,
and in the large scheme of things,
it doesn’t really matter.
Would the sound of the wind
in the leaves
change
if I could call the tree in English or Latin?
I sit feeling the moisture from the ground
dampen the back of my pants.
But it is slow enough
that even if I sit here for an hour,
you wouldn’t be able to tell.
Unless you get close
enough
to smell.
Because the grass leaves its scent
on my whole body.
I feel the sun on my skin
as the wind stops.
I feel the joy
that its warmth brings.
My eyes are closed as I pretend to nap
so I don’t have to live in this world.
And it works,
I lay undisturbed.
Feeling the wind,
breathing the smell,
and listening to the leaves
dance in the sky.
What is this?

I walk
beside the road.
I’ve passed
two men standing outside,
a couple of bike riders going home
after a day at work or play...
however they spend their time.
My mind wanders as I walk;
she is not confined
to my steps
or my surroundings.
She jumps,
even sets the world record
for furthest distance imagined
in a one-block walk.
Clouds have collected in the sky
while I wasn’t watching
and the air tingles
with the anticipation of rain.
My whole body hopes
that the rain will begin
soon.
I yearn to be caught in the downpour
so that I can
dance
my way home.
What is this?

Man, am I tired...

I should post more when I am in a good mood, because I swear they do happen. But I think I only take the time to sit still when I am feeling tired or angry, so that is what comes out on my blog. My deepest regrets...

I just got back from our "Advanced Training Retreat" or ATR, as they say in the biz. It was three full days up in the north country with the corps. Lots of fun was had, but mostly I'm just drained. The lake was very pretty though.


At the retreat, we did an exercise called Cross the Line. Basically a facilitator says statements, and if these statement apply to you then you, well, cross the line. I hear the statements can get very intense, but I didn't think it got too bad. The thing I like about these exercises is that they create a space of honesty and vulnerability that we all enter together. I have a hard time being open, especially in this group, but when everybody is asked to be open together it works for me. I wish we could all be more naturally open; I realize how much I crave that kind of connection with other people. I think that is why this year has been hard. I don't have that...permission...to be open with anyone around here; I've only known them for a couple of months.

Anyway, next time I post, I'll try to do it in one of my good moods.

Wisdom from comedians...

A co-worker emailed this out and I thought I'd share it with you...


A Message by George Carlin:

The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider Freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less, we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yet more problems, more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.

We've learned how to make a living, but not a life. We've added years to life not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. We conquered outer space but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things.

We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom.

Remember; spend some time with your loved ones, because they are not going to be around forever.

Remember, say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe, because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side.

Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn't cost a cent.

Remember, to say, "I love you" to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you.

Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person will not be there again.

Give time to love, give time to speak! And give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.

George Carlin