Five weeks ago I walked onto a farm. I stuck my dirt-free fingernails into the dirt and they haven't been clean since. I brushed against the overgrown lavender and picked a leaf of chocolate mint secreting it to my lips. I sat in a circle of smiling apprentices and attempted to explain that smile, that giddiness in the middle of my chest, that need to be in a circle in the middle of a farm in the middle of the city.
The first couple of weeks back at school, back in San Diego, were rough in an interesting way. I was smiling non-stop and throwing myself into every activity to come about but sometimes the smile faded as frustration set in. Like everyone else picking up digging forks to agitate dry earth and donning forks of the pitching variety to deal with compost, I wanted all the answers. I wanted the taproot of my brain to burrow down deep into all this accumulated knowledge and absorb it immediately. No gentle shower of information! No dirt/compost/mulch type layering of lessons! I walked around thinking that I didn't know what I was doing and getting angry instead of realizing I didn't know what I was doing and embracing that as a chance to learn.
Five weeks in I realize I know even less but I am so much the better for it. I can spout off more fun facts about emus and mushrooms than I could a month ago. I can describe how to fork a bed, how to use diatomaceous earth to internally pulverize pill bugs, why one should compress the soil before seeding.
I get excited about small stuff these days. Like baby radishes or the markings on spiders.
I am constantly learning new things and relearning old things.
Like:
Mushrooms should be eaten cooked because unlike vegetables they are made out of chiton. Like the exoskeleton of insects. And lobsters. Apparently we can't process the nutrients in them unless they are cooked or dried and pulverized. Amazing right? But that's not all about mushrooms- the largest living organism in the world (area) is a fungal colony of honey mushrooms in Oregon. I know. Wow!
Mushrooms have many other fascinating properties that I am currently learning about as I help spawn, inoculate, and pick flushes.
That's shroom talk for "grow mushrooms."
I pulled out my 20-year-old pink wheeled skates and somehow I still know how to rollerskate. I'm a bit rusty and won't be doing the fancy tricks I used to do at the roller rink this weekend on the boardwalk, but find me a smooth surface and I may be able to do the whole Funky Chicken dance without eating shit.
My plies may not be as graceful as they once were but I can still tombe-pas de bourree-glisade- grand jete across the ballet studio no problem. I may sound like a herd of elephants across a savannah but that lightness of step may take a whole semester.
I haven't taken a ballet class in about 10 years and the learning curve was steep. I knew what my body was supposed to be doing but these 33 year old hips, arms, toes don't always cooperate. Like any old skill that one had once excelled in, the disparity between used to be able and am able is frustrating during the initial attempts at mastery. A few huffy breaths and then a bit of laughter often follow and reality sets in. Now even as my body grows stronger and hey those plies are looking better every class I can still laugh at myself when I spin out of control during pirouettes or envy the girl with crazy extension down the barre.
Animals. Don't usually care for them. In any sense.
But you know what? Goats are awesome. And super cute when they need to be burped.
Chickens are funny too even with their tiny little brains.
Emus are just strange. Looking, acting. Or maybe just Brian Fairy, the emu at Wild Willow. I've never met another one before.
The great thing about learning about how to take care of animals is that even if I never own them myself in the future, I am learning to observe behaviors and nature in a way that is utterly fascinating and sometimes intensely brutal.
And did I mention the baby goats are adorable?
And the chicken eggs are delicious.
Maybe animal ownership isn't such a bad thing. Once I move out of this condo...
I canned for the first time last night. It's one of those things I've always wanted to do. I mean, I've made yogurt from scratch and baked my own bread but canning always intimidated me. We'll see how the first attempt turns out. If my face freezes due to a batch of cucumber botox (or botulism as they call it in the food safety world), I'll either give up canning or go into the cosmetic procedures business.
Weeds. Many of them are edible. And delicious. Take purslane for instance. It's a superfood with tons of antioxidants and the highest amount of Omega-3s of any vegetable. People yank it out of the gardens with abandon. Yank it from them and use it in salads or stirfrys. And it's great in dip. Here's my recipe:
Purslane cashew dip(all measurements approximate/to taste/too bad I don't measure)
1 cup purslane, mostly leaves, some stems1 cup raw cashews, soaked for 30 minutes3 Tbsp olive oil2 cloves garlicsalt and pepperBlend it all together adding water if needed. Eat with fresh veggies. Or chips if you must.So now the question is, what am I going to (not) know in another month?
Bring it on.
