The Importance of Playing in the Dirt

While growing up my parents purchased land in the Humber Valley (Little Rapids to be exact). Eleven acre property about 15 mins outside of Corner Brook.  My parents grew up during WW2 and grocery stores weren't in existence especially in outport Newfoundland. You fished, grew or hunted what you ate. Of course you would get flour, salt and dry good items from the local store but predominately you consumed what you physically procured (fancy word!).

Fast forward the story to 1977 and this property in Little Rapids. My dad tilled and worked the rocky soil and grew potatoes, carrots, maybe even turnip. We had a root cellar that was filled in the fall and for the most part supplemented our food for the entire winter. My dad had a full time job... left the house at 7am and back home at 530pm - long enough to have supper and then work in the garden, the shed or the barn until dark. Part was necessity but most was enjoyment.  "We're action people Lori", and he was exactly that. In retirement his entire day was spent out puttering and growing.

My step-mom Irene is a gardening machine. Out at 7am and in at night.  I witnessed them working side by side for 27 years. Hard physical work but they lived it every darned day.

Your next question may be, Where the hell were you Lori? Inside... watching the soaps mostly or reading. Not much into the physical and definitely not into gardening. But somehow I learned things and many years later the love for gardening appeared and I had two great resources to use.

The past few years has brought me a garden (compliments of Dad and Irene) to play in.

Don't worry, I was there somewhere.  Dad and I lugged all that crushed stone through the townhouse basement via buckets.  Three quarters of a tonne (I shit you not).  But there they are (both well into their 70's), working it.

Last week I visited two kindergarten classes in St. John's and showed them how to start vegetable plants. My friend Peggy is their teacher and asked if I could help during a visit home to see my family. It got me thinking... How many children have zero concept of where their food comes from, do they know that it isn't shrink wrapped or cellophaned?

The importance of playing in the dirt...

I don't know about anyone else but I love playing in the dirt. Soil beneath my fingernails and the smell of earth. It makes me feel 4 instead of the 40 I am. I don't see it as work, I see it as joy. An escape from my laptop, BlackBerry, cellphone, Kobo or whatever technology occupies my life. Yes I use my digital camera to take pictures but heck I am pretty chuffed when I see what I have helped to grow.

Why is it important to show your children how to grow something? Better science marks...  Kidding!!  Well yes but this is a skill that could supplement their grocery bill, allow them to eat nutritional food and further propogate the love of playing in the dirt.

You don't need acres to grow. A bright window sill and imagination can go far. Do... and teach. Your children and the earth will thank you and possibly your retirement plan.

For those who wonder how important growing was to my dad?  At 80 years old and in his last days he wondered how his potatoes were doing. Take a look and decide (to your left in containers, the right was his flake for drying fish).

The importance of playing in the dirt...

Confessions are good for the soul... Or are they?

Last night I was sitting in the house and enjoying a sip of wine... Maybe a whole glass but who keeps track of these trivial things.  An advertisment came on the TV about April being daffodil month for the Canadian Cancer society and it got me thinking...

I call this month Cancer Awareness Month. It's my phrase instead of hanging off a flower that dies in 2 weeks.  Kind of a shitty reminder that many don't survive the battle.

Back to my story. I sit, sip and contemplate what Cancer Awareness means to me.  So I tweet asking people to remember the significance of this month and for them to consider doing something to help the fight.  I don't ask them to give money or time, just consideration. Thoughts change attitudes, attitudes change to actions and actions leads to change.

My fingers hang over the keys...  Anyone who reads my tweets know that I am the expert in the ridiculous and the foolish. So do I take a serious minute and open myself up to people I know but more interestingly, people who I don't know? Yep, I went for it. A wine decision.

Fourteen years ago I was sick, very sick but I refused to acknowledge or address it.  Every day was awful.  Every day was a grand suckfest and every day I lost my sparkle. Days became weeks, weeks became months and still I struggled.  Finally my dad called, blustered about and ordered me to see a doctor.  Appointments, tests, grumblings and finally they had the word... Cancer.

I won't bore you with the logistics of treatment.  Chances are good that you know someone who has run the gamut. Suffice to say that the decisions I made were ones that impact me daily.  But here I sit...

Is this a sob story?  Nope, not even a little.  I made out easy, there were people on the oncology floor without family, without options and eventually without hope.  Those are the courageous, who look at the options, see they have none but decide to take on the battle anyway or gracefully bow out of the tussle.

Back to the tweet. Once I confessed (in 140 characters no less) people were generous and curious.  Maybe it was the curiousity I wanted, for people to understand that all cancer doesn't end at a gravesite. Thoughts by people lead to a solution for me and that 14 years later I am perfectly able to tweet bullshit daily (or hourly).

And I have a sparkle...

Lori

(pitcherplantnl)