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"Do you need more cowbell in your epic, rock ‘n roll jam? Probably not. Must you have the laser light show and all the smoke machines to prove to the world what a guitar god you are? I don’t think so. If we can learn to dance without it, we’re probably fine." from "Creating Simplicity"
“When I lined the jars up on the counter, sunlight streamed through the window and lit their juices like jewels. If all had gone well, I would begin to hear the soft pop of first one jar and then another as a vacuum formed inside, the button center of the metal lid sucking down tight as the seal formed. The sound had become a sound of satisfaction, and this year, a sound of hope. Maybe they could become more than a buoy against the fading temperatures; maybe this year they could provide a buoy for me.” from "Naked Tomatoes"
“It started about eight or nine years ago when Brooke, the little girl next door, began yelling at me from her porch.
“That’s a hydrangea,” she’d shout as I slaved in the yard. “Robins use them to decorate their nests.” “If you put that there it won’t get any sun.” “Those are seeds. If you shove a couple in the ground, they’ll come up all over.” Gardening was supposed to be a solitary opportunity to concentrate on Mother Nature’s wonders; instead, I was being bellowed at by a nine-year-old Master (Sergeant) Gardener.
Brooke had watched me pull weeds, sneeze up a storm and attempt to kill my lawn for years. Eventually she mustered the courage to walk through the hedge that conveniently separates our properties and make additional inane observations, but at much closer range. Pointing out particularly colorful butterflies or helping untangle a hose, Brooke was just helpful enough to keep me from shooing her off the lot.
“I think we should start a Garden Club,” she mentioned one day. “Can you make a meeting on Saturday?”
I told her I like to keep my weekends kinda wide open, mainly so I can sleep in. But this was a particularly persistent sprite.
“How about noon?”
I finally relented.
“That’s a lot of sleeping. See ya there!” The meeting was set.” from "The Garden Club"
“At first, it was just another food on my face.
Just a sticky-sweet slather of goodness that got rid of pimples, nearly completely erased my scars, and left my skin feeling like a baby’s fresh new bottom. But the more I rubbed that gooey, golden nectar over my cheeks, the more real the situation became.
It wasn’t just about beating pimples and beauty; it was about an entire circle of creation that existed, in some small way, just to serve my needs. It was earth and rain and flowers and bees, all in a climactic orchestra of perfection that finished with a crescendo on my face. One night, I got it. And for as overly dramatic as it sounds, it was good.” from "The Honey Challenge"
“In fact, Reese, who is 61 years old, would prefer to spend his evenings reading antique poultry magazines or the spiritual writings of Saint Augustine and Saint Teresa. He is solidly build and speaks in measured tones. In his well-pressed flannel shirt, he looks as if he might have stepped off a page of the 1954 Sears, Roebuck catalogue.
And yet, to food lovers, animal lovers, and many family farmers, this fourth-generation farmer from Kansas is more than just a turkey breeder with old-fashioned ways. He is a saint. Reese is the man who saved American poultry.” from "Rare Breed"
“Take a rose petal in your hand. Stroke it. Lift it to your cheek. Are you transported to Juliet’s attempt at scooping with her tongue the last drops of poison from the bottle lying atop her still warm Romeo’s body? Do you float somewhere between the trilled and gasping aria in Rigoletto?
Are you reminded of a warning not to pursue someone because they’d destroy your life à la a Thomas Hardy novel character? ” from "Winter's Heart"
“Tony kept calling me Marsha.
'Look over here, Marsha,' he beckoned. My attention was fixed on the activity going on above my head so I didn’t look over until he called again. Then it dawned on me—he thought I was Marsha. I understood the mistake. Although he’d helped me dress just a few minutes ago, he didn’t know me. We’d just met the night before.
I turned on the ladder where I balanced seven feet up underneath a white pine. I looked down. The wind blew slightly, cool and crisp, typical for a April morning in front range Colorado.
A few feet above my head hummed a swarm of five thousand bees.
I smiled down at Tony, even though it wouldn’t show, from behind the veil. Tony took my picture.” from "Swarm Story"
“Armed with a machete, an ancient digging stick and a mailbag, we set out one chilly April morning to dig Tuscan roots.
My husband and I had picked up our zia (aunt) from her stone house in a village built along an Apennine spur in Lunigiana—the Valley of the Moon. Wearing Wellington boots with nylon stockings, a black skirt, and a wool-knitted vest, Zia dressed in the same style as village women in photos from World War II.
We searched for madder today, Rubia peregrina, used for thousands of years in Lunigiana to dye eggs for Holy Week and wool the bright red of a Medici cloak.Morning dew swamped our tennis shoes as we climbed past blackberry thorns. Zia marched along and tutted at the overgrowth. 'Twenty years ago there were sheep here, and potatoes,' she pointed out.'Youngsters don’t make money from sheep, and there are plenty vegetables in town.'” from "Tuscan Roots"
"Carver knew that the soil must be enriched, and he implemented new practices to do so. While established practice said that plowing should be shallow, he plowed deep so that the plants could reach fertile soil. While established practice said that last year’s growth should be burned off, Carver tilled dead stalks back into the ground. While established practice said that kitchen waste was garbage, he mined garbage heaps for their rich soil, tilling it back into the fields. He also began a compost pit, adding all of the school’s organic waste—paper, leaves, rags, grass, weeds, kitchen waste, street sweeping—anything that would rot.
Over time, Tuskegee began to make money from the land."
from "George Washington Carver: Grandfather of Sustainability"
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