Wednesday, August 11, 2010

The Economy of the Garden Part 1

From the Huffington Post. I'll be watching for Part 2.

"It's been a truly liberating experience for me to eat a strawberry in the same place that it was born, only seconds after it was plucked. The fruit has no bar code, no USFDA information; it is not shrink-wrapped with thousands of others. No, it is a very specific strawberry from a very specific plant. Yes, it may look and taste like thousands of others, but it has a history and a location unlike all the rest. For me, this berry is a distinct piece of fruit. I have watched her for days, waiting till she's perfectly ripe, trying to get to her before the caterpillars do. And when I pick the strawberry up from her earthy beginnings, it feels like a holy moment: where earth, wind, sun, and water have come together to give me a piece of themselves. The tiny, misshapen berry becomes a celebration of life and new beginnings. Consumption becomes tied to the specifics of time and place. And this little suburban, freeway garden of mine begins to feel like holy ground. Yes, even against the backdrop of a land where nothing is sacred."

...

"The fast-food pace of our daily lives cannot replace the slow growth of the garden. When a product is stripped of our narrative, we lose a portion of our own story. We are reduced to an appetite and nothing more. Yes, every anonymous bar code has an intricate connection with the ongoing human story. I'm not trying to swim against the tides of capitalism. And I'm not against grocery stores. I'm simply stating that we lose a piece of our identity when we are reduced to an anonymous pocketbook with a mouth at the other end. The unique identity that every one of us possesses is directly tied to the way we spend our time and our money. Faceless consumerism is hard to call progress. My backyard garden reminds me that my plot is a part of the broader narrative, opening my eyes to the stories that don't fit into a sales tag. The garden reminds me that faceless capitalism alone might not be the best model for our human existence. Maybe the accelerating digital network is not the best soil for the human soul. I want to live with deeper roots even if it means a slower means of travel. Maybe I could spend a little more time in the garden and a little less time in the fast lane. I'm pretty sure that we could all use a little more dirt underneath our fingernails."


Well said.

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