About two weeks ago, I began (once again, and in earnest) pining away for a life spent in rural Oregon. Then, somewhere between touring a friend’s new blueberry farm in Lebanon and helping my dad build a dry creek bed on our family’s land in Gaston, I decided that I don’t have to choose between Portland and farm country. I don’t have to quit my job and leave Tom for a life in the country living with my parents and eating from Ralph’s Pretty Good Grocery. But, I also don’t have to spend my days in the city tied to a desk and a computer screen wondering what is going on outside in the natural world. I’ve simply got to get a little better about making sure I’m having regular rural experiences and weaving them gracefully into my urban life. Whether on the farm or in the city, the garden is constant, grounding and nourishing. My community garden plot changes in tiny and huge ways each day. Several spring crops have already come and gone, having been replaced by tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers and beans. Others are still taking their sweet time to mature. Will I ever eat a beet or sugar snap pea? The garlic is finally making flower stalks, the arugula is making chipper white flowers, carrots have been sown again, the second and third plantings of radishes have been devoured, and chervil is in full swing. And, there is a tiny yellow flower on my tomatillo just waiting for a bee to pay it a visit.
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