Planting Seeds

note: The short piece below is written as an introduction to a longer piece from Zia that will be forthcoming shortly. We are posting it separately because, as Zia’s husband says, “people need encouragement” in this time.

For over two weeks now I have been struggling with writing an article about planting trees. But I got stuck. Even without reading the daily papers, I could not avoid the rage/fear/confusion about the current U.S. government—those elected and not. My initial response was complete lethargy. Then a few days ago, at a small coffee bar in my village, on the omnipresent television screen was the sociopath-in-chief talking about taking over Gaza. (For what it’s worth, the caption was: “…è ridiculo”, which needs no translation.) I became angry. Not just with the political situation… angry with everyone who has ignored the environmental disaster-in-waiting for over fifty years. I came home, went into the garden, sat down on the earth and began to pound the soil with a hand hoe. And though I am an advocate of no-till and, with apologies to the billions of microorganisms I was injuring or perhaps destroying, I needed to be digging in the earth to find my balance. The soil was heavy and waterlogged from the amount of rain we have had but, amazingly, the energy I used to release my rage actually aerated the earth. I stood up, stepped back, and looked at that patch of ground. My anger had transformed the soil, the compacted water-saturated mud, into fine earth perfect for planting seeds. I grabbed a flat of fava bean seeds I was germinating, made holes in the soil with my fingers and stuck one bean seed in each hole. I watered them. The rage passed. I felt better. I felt productive. That was all I was capable of doing that entire afternoon… planting seeds. It was not lost on me that this was also a symbolic gesture. With the waxing moon, the cotyledons emerged within a few days. (Above) Triumph.

And so, I plant. I keep pounding the ground, accompanied by several jars of saved seeds… I am lifted from my lethargy by the promise of arugula, endive, radicchio, lettuce, chicory… and resilience.

I will continue planting seeds.

Read the full article at the original website

References:

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