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un urban outdoor grocery
2019-Sep-20, Friday 07:59 pmI joined the #ClimateStrike march in St. Paul today, and I intended to write about it tonight. An adventure in the front yard takes priority, though, so the rally pictures will have to wait until tomorrow.
I mentioned before that my yard has overgrown with weeds this year because I simply haven't braved the outdoors. This fall, though, I do have two small successes. I have my best crop of carrots yet. I'll harvest them soon and share with some neighbors. And I have a lavender rose bearing two flowers now, after it survived its first winter in 2018. If it survives a second winter, then I think I'll finally have a winner after trying repeatedly for years to find a blue rose that would survive in zone 4 weather.
I tried twice to plant flowers in my front yard by the street this year, but they all died. I think there's finally just too much shade from the city tree there. I bought some shade plants earlier this week in a fall sale, so I thought that I would plant them this evening. The adventure began promptly.
One neighbor kid who knew my name asked for allen wrenches to help fix a bike that had "been in the back yard for a long time". His own bike? I didn't get that impression, but hopefully it was. A much younger kid walked up, announced that he was helping me, then reached for the shovel in my hands. He didn't ask, he just told me. I don't think he was aware of it himself, but I suspect that he was really just getting away from the loud woman indoors who had been yelling for several minutes. So he helped.
We eventually got a system together where I would hold the shovel, and he would try to hop on it to dig it into the soil. He weighed little, so it barely worked at all. Eventually 3 other kids showed up to also help. (translation: argue over who would get to hold the shovel and dig) Some of these kids had the attention span and patience of a gnat, but others were clearly paying attention and learning. Eventually they realized why standing on the shovel was effective to dig down before lifting up. Some of them learned how to squeeze and pat a plastic container to loosen the roots from the side before lifting a plant out. I'm pretty sure one or two plants died by their tops being ripped before the soil would let go. Others died by being trampled or scraped with a shovel repeatedly, but... they were helping.
I didn't always understand the words these kids spoke, but I clearly heard one of them tell the other how he's always talking about kicking white people's butts. (Said in front of the white guy.) Most strangely, however, I'm pretty sure one of them said at one point, "No, he's not a customer." Um, what? I think, but I'm not certain, that comment was intended for a teenage girl roaming nearby. Maybe they used the kids to talk with walk-ups to see what drugs they want to buy, so they spend less time at the actual drug property?
Anyway, the good thing that I wanted to mention is that all of the kids seemed to know already how to recognize the strawberry and raspberry plants in my yard. They admitted that they had been eating them all summer, and they knew the fruits by name. I reminded them that they were welcome to eat that food at any time. That's exactly why I plant this garden in the front yard. I want people to enjoy the food.
I'm convinced that urban food puts people in touch with nature, helping them to recognize plants, the environment that plants need to grow, and the time it takes to grow food in particular. People react differently to food than they do to mere landscape. The kids tonight were a mixture of colors: white, yellow, and black. But they're all a product of life here in NOMI (North Minneapolis). They wanted to "help". Sure, it added nearly a full hour to my planting time this evening, but they were all willing to approach an old white guy, so maybe there's still hope for humanity.
I remain convinced that urban farming is a necessary element for any revitalization effort in a big city. I'm glad to see that my tiny and often-overgrown plot seems to be aiding in that effort. I don't know much else that I can do to improve life here in the warzone, but I can keep doing that.
I mentioned before that my yard has overgrown with weeds this year because I simply haven't braved the outdoors. This fall, though, I do have two small successes. I have my best crop of carrots yet. I'll harvest them soon and share with some neighbors. And I have a lavender rose bearing two flowers now, after it survived its first winter in 2018. If it survives a second winter, then I think I'll finally have a winner after trying repeatedly for years to find a blue rose that would survive in zone 4 weather.
I tried twice to plant flowers in my front yard by the street this year, but they all died. I think there's finally just too much shade from the city tree there. I bought some shade plants earlier this week in a fall sale, so I thought that I would plant them this evening. The adventure began promptly.
One neighbor kid who knew my name asked for allen wrenches to help fix a bike that had "been in the back yard for a long time". His own bike? I didn't get that impression, but hopefully it was. A much younger kid walked up, announced that he was helping me, then reached for the shovel in my hands. He didn't ask, he just told me. I don't think he was aware of it himself, but I suspect that he was really just getting away from the loud woman indoors who had been yelling for several minutes. So he helped.
We eventually got a system together where I would hold the shovel, and he would try to hop on it to dig it into the soil. He weighed little, so it barely worked at all. Eventually 3 other kids showed up to also help. (translation: argue over who would get to hold the shovel and dig) Some of these kids had the attention span and patience of a gnat, but others were clearly paying attention and learning. Eventually they realized why standing on the shovel was effective to dig down before lifting up. Some of them learned how to squeeze and pat a plastic container to loosen the roots from the side before lifting a plant out. I'm pretty sure one or two plants died by their tops being ripped before the soil would let go. Others died by being trampled or scraped with a shovel repeatedly, but... they were helping.
I didn't always understand the words these kids spoke, but I clearly heard one of them tell the other how he's always talking about kicking white people's butts. (Said in front of the white guy.) Most strangely, however, I'm pretty sure one of them said at one point, "No, he's not a customer." Um, what? I think, but I'm not certain, that comment was intended for a teenage girl roaming nearby. Maybe they used the kids to talk with walk-ups to see what drugs they want to buy, so they spend less time at the actual drug property?
Anyway, the good thing that I wanted to mention is that all of the kids seemed to know already how to recognize the strawberry and raspberry plants in my yard. They admitted that they had been eating them all summer, and they knew the fruits by name. I reminded them that they were welcome to eat that food at any time. That's exactly why I plant this garden in the front yard. I want people to enjoy the food.
I'm convinced that urban food puts people in touch with nature, helping them to recognize plants, the environment that plants need to grow, and the time it takes to grow food in particular. People react differently to food than they do to mere landscape. The kids tonight were a mixture of colors: white, yellow, and black. But they're all a product of life here in NOMI (North Minneapolis). They wanted to "help". Sure, it added nearly a full hour to my planting time this evening, but they were all willing to approach an old white guy, so maybe there's still hope for humanity.
I remain convinced that urban farming is a necessary element for any revitalization effort in a big city. I'm glad to see that my tiny and often-overgrown plot seems to be aiding in that effort. I don't know much else that I can do to improve life here in the warzone, but I can keep doing that.