6. Radical Hope
Yesterday was a balmy 68 degrees, and I wore myself out planting a bunch of things that will most likely not germinate.
Why?
Because I’m direct seeding most of my cool season crops on account of the fact that I don’t really have room for starting seeds, plus it’s already “late” in the season to begin starting seeds under lights that should be in the ground at the beginning of April. I should have started them in January or February, when we were in the process of moving/being homeless.
So I’ve direct-seeded/put in the ground the following: arugula, beets, broccoli, Brussel sprouts, cabbage, carrots, cauliflower, celery, chard, kale, leeks, lettuce, mixed greens, onions, peas, potatoes, radish, spinach, and turnips. Oh yeah, and strawberries.
I did, however, start 720 warm-weather seeds a couple of days ago, and have been fighting the mice for their survival. The mice keep digging out the cucumber seeds and eating them. I feel like we have enough poison around to murder an army of them, but still, they persist.
So why am I being negative and predicting the direct-seeded plants won’t germinate? Well, since I have no capital, I’m relying on old seeds to do some heavy lifting in clay soil that’s water-logged and cold. Yes, I am covering these lil’ babes with agricultural fabric, but hope and luck will only get one so far…
But I’ve titled this entry, “Radical Hope”, because farming is a radical act. It is a hopeful act. It places an insane burden in the most meager of times on those who can believe, against all odds, that a tiny seed, placed in dirt, with care, will become food in 50 - 120 days.
My labeling it “radical”, though, isn’t meant to say that it’s something that no one is brave enough/good enough/concerned enough/strong enough/punk enough/resilient enough to do: anyone can, and many, many do. They do it out of necessity: because it’s the family business, because the nearest grocery is 20 miles away and SNAP will only get them so far. Food cultivation is a tricky and strangely political thing.
I grow because it feels good. I like the action of it. I like the strain and the frustration, the problem-solving, the constant learning, the failure, the trying again. I like the challenge of being better every. single. season.
I like that it’s a little crazy to spend all of this time and effort on something that could not work. I’m a process person; a learning-by-doing person.
So my hope is radical because success is not a guarantee, even with hard work, know-how, and all the right tools.
I guess the same could be said of any venture. Things happen. Mistakes can be made. Failure will be imminent at some point. But I’m ignoring that right now in favor of hope. Some sun. Less rain. And food in a month or two.