Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
The vegetable farm was an adventure yesterday. A cool, pleasant adventure. I donned my glove (24 and I shared hers as she's a lefty and I'm a righty and, well, we only needed to protect one hand from the other hand) grabbed the sharpened lettuce knife (hence the protection... can't very well offer organic lettuce that has been bled upon... even though that would be, technically, organic.)
I harvested bags of the green stuff, while 24 harvested braising mix and spinach. However, the kale was not cooperating. And since the previous week had found our farmer buying some produce from another grower, she decided to do the same with kale. And swiss chard. But someone had to go pick it up.
We went on a field trip. Apparently there is a thriving organic pocket in my side yard (not literally, but a mere twenty minute drive away). And crazy as this sounds, there is a female organic guru of sorts who lives in said pocket who provides the classy, natural and upscale restaurants in our metro area with produce. Our farmer filled us in on Super Organic Girl (SOG) while we drove the seven miles to her compound. Now I can't tell you her name, but it's one that could be shortened into a cute nickname ending in y. I doubt anyone calls her by a cute y-ending nickname. Apparently, this woman is the go-to woman for any person looking into organic growing or selling and is surrounded by organic groupies and wanna bes wherever she makes an appearance.
This chick (SOG) is the real deal. So while we were driving and talking, I'm wondering what we will see. Will she be like Beverly Hillbillies Granny, a wizened woman who packs heat and sits in a rocking chair? Will she be the stereotype hippie who wears hemp, dreadlocks and no footwear?
We pulled into the compound....and I have to get to work....to be continued.