Yesterday morning I cleaned a winter’s-worth of leaves off of our balcony. Four bags full. I seriously wondered whether if I had planted some seeds in the layer of ‘mulch’ that had accumulated, we could have had an 8′ x 8′ third floor garden.
This month, my article in PeaceSigns is about gardening — specifically, what could happen if a neighborhood worked together to produce not only food, but life together. Here’s an excerpt:
This is the time of year when my thoughts inevitably turn to gardening and I find myself daydreaming about digging in the dirt, and planting seeds, and how wonderful a warm, just-picked, sun-ripened tomato tastes. I feel spring stirring in my soul while frost is yet on the ground. When this happens, I pull out my copy of The Wind in the Willows and look in on Mole, inside cleaning while, “Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing.”