Waving the red and white.
Archive for the ‘Celebrate’ Category
Green is my forever favourite colour, but lately I’ve been smitten by soft shades of pink and so I now find myself writing a post about a subject that although “in-season” is neither edible nor on my balcony: cherry blossom-watching.
This Easter Monday I had “good intentions” to spend the day indoors, working on spring cleaning, garden planning (I’m w-a-a-a-y-y behind in this) and seed sowing, but…you probably know where I’m going with this…mid-afternoon sunshine and a restless Westie nudged me outdoors. I didn’t put up much resistance. And a half-hour walk turned into more than two hours of viewing sights like this:
I’m looking forward to Bike the Blossoms with Slow Food Vancouver . As I write this I realize I’ve just made an “edible” connection so perhaps I can publish this post without overstretching the blog’s boundaries.
As the email I received this morning reminded me, our big day is just around the corner. And of course, I’m not prepared.
What are you going to do on Kitchen Garden Day, August 26th, 2007?
I’m going to plant the last of my 2007 crops: arugula, cilantro, corn salad and winter lettuce. (More details in a post to come.)
I’d also like to do something more creative and celebratory–perhaps a walk to the nearby community gardens or a longer trek out to UBC Farm. A lovely “Tis the season” post on Grist about summer’s end and salad dressing inspired me to do this.
Here’s an excerpt but it’s well worth taking a few minutes to read the full essay:
I know that if we paid adequate attention to all of these miracles — really and truly gave them their due — we would never be able to get anything else done. I also know, however, that if we don’t stop to marvel at these things now and then, we will never understand and appreciate them fully, and, as a consequence, we will never be able to get anything done. This fleeting moment of peak growth, of plants straining to complete their seed-producing mission, of living things going flat-out as they sprint toward the end of the growing season, seems as good a time as any to stop and look around.
This passage really resonates with me. I need to learn to stop and smell the roses, or in my case, nasturtiums, more often.