grow

it's fun to live somewhere long enough that the local potato farmers recognize you from last year's market. stumbling happily upon the organic city blocks today, i bantered with these authentic guys--overall clad and everything--thanking them for the tip on seed potatoes. "it's working" i chimed. "sure enough" they said, looking at each other and smiling with tender pity upon my glib farming soul. picking up my first strawberries and rhubarb of the season i went on to buy soap. the soapmaker seemed discouraged, sagging beneath the white of his own awning. i queried him as i smelled the various aromas. did he still like making soap? what had become routine? what was the most fun about it? did he like making new fragrances? (sort of. all of it. sometimes. and yes, except "cut grass" wasn't a big hit. hmmm) somehow we got on the topic of the beachhouse he and his wife had to sell because of hard economic times. "no one will hire me, i'm too old," he sighed, "the beachhouse was just a dream." "hey," i said, "nothing is impossible. i didn't give up on my potatoes and you shouldn't give up on your dreams. i'll take this bar...keep the change for your beach fund." i guess i just love to encourage growth in all its many forms, it's rather thrilling. in people mostly. but anywhere i see it. so to come home and plant potatoes, an entire row of sunflowers and find that my cucumber, carrot and lettuce starts were poking above the surface? well, this is one happy cultivator.