“The edges of gardens. I swear by them. And spend many hours attending to that task, as if commissioned by Michelangelo. Caught between the cultivated biome and the wild field, I straddle an artificial division, yet one that serves mankind: using scissors, using my eye, using tools honed by tradition & according to my own sensibilities, I’ve learned to tame things, including myself, to build relationships, which are transitory. Life is short, but I continue to clip and redefine, talk to grass and poppy upstarts, and geranium place holders, gently pry rotted apple leaves off the clean surface of receptive hosta fronds. May it be noted, that some will cup and hold “whatever” with blind dedication! Such reverence is the stuff of community discernment. It’s the way of the sacred mother. You tend to your neighbor’s goats while they’re gone, and they in time, will give you cheese. Get ready, Vermont, we’re having to stand up for the natural order of things we already know. Healthy, vibrant and resilient - even you, little bird, cowering in fear of a so-called “pandemic”! Wake up, and go about creating the normal you wish to see, one in which you are holy in charge. That’s right, ordained to prod vegetable life into being, & harvest nutritious food. Share your bounty, work together, stand up for what’s right. Top down authority can’t stamp out our hard earned routines . I don’t care who just won the election. We’re the real force to be reckoned with.”
