I'm learning so much lately about letting go...loosening my grip...accepting that I am not in control.

Minimalism is often described as letting go of what isn't important, so we can make space for what is important. The practice of minimalism has enabled me to (along with my partner) raise my girls on a single, low income and to move overseas (twice). I've become very good at letting go of things in order to gain something else.

Lately, however, the letting go seems to have more to do with a lack of choice. It is more about accepting other's choices that affect me in impactful ways. I'm experiencing this both in my personal relationships, and in the greater societal context. I doubt I'm unique in that.

Today I read that nihilism (the belief that existence is pointless) is currently pervasive in the US. This from a nation that had 90% of people identifying as Christians in the early 1990's. The arguments that nothing has changed + everything has changed each have their validity. Personally, I'm just tired of being endlessly indignant. I'm not sure, but that feels adjacent to acceptance somehow. I don't like that either.

Years ago, I planted mint in our garden. It did well + looked great...until it started to come up in the middle of every plant around it. A few years after I planted it, I decided it had to go. It is just too invasive. Even now, every time I go out into the garden, I spot stray mint in the middle of one plant or another. I can't control it. So I pull it + make mint tea.

I have to admit that I'm trying to find the lesson as I write this. Hmmm. Let it be? Live + let live? Sure, but that doesn't really offer any promise of any good coming from the unchosen. I don't want to be a nihilist, so I want to find the good.

I'm reminded of The Overstory by Richard Powers. We understand the breadth of the forest's story by understanding how many human lifetimes come + go during its lifespan. If we humans are nature, and nature's story is so much bigger + longer than each one of us...then maybe we are just here to participate in the good that is...the good that goes on + on...and to make a little mint tea along the way. I think I can live with that.  

Much love,
​Jane

Decisions can be hard to make, especially when they feel like they move away from sustainability rather than toward it. But circumstances shift + different choices don't necessarily signal failure, they are just the choices that make sense now.

The choice to grow a pollinator garden rather than strawberries, tomatoes, cucumbers + peppers was a tearful one. I love growing food, but knew I couldn't keep up with the harvesting while using every ounce of my energy at a physical job. Our delicious tomatoes were not helping with my inflammatory issues + our garden beds were in need of renewal after years in service. 

​We made the switch to native plants + flowers and just witnessed the most magical month of monarch migration! Our garden hosts loads of hummingbirds, bees, butterflies, goldfinches, chipmunks, woodpeckers, jays, juncos, bunnies, squirrels, hawks and so much more all year round. It's such a treat to watch this natural habitat day by day. 

We still grew potatoes + pumpkins around the side of the house this year. Their harvest took minutes rather than days, and we've had root vegetables enough to share. Transforming our garden wasn't a bad decision. It was just a different one...one that makes sense for now.

Love,
Jane

I'm the type of gardener who plants things + mostly waits to see what nature does with it. There's no round-up to bend things to my will. There are squirrels that dig + rabbits that multiply. Chipmunks + skinks scurry. Bees buzz. 

I do not want to do battle with nature. We weed...some. We water...some. Things that were planted last year or the year before emerge. I don't remember all the names that humans gave them. They are beautiful.

One day, I exclaimed at the bright purple blossoms that appeared. It rained for days + the purple blossoms disappeared. And then, an evening visit to the garden revealed why this purple seems to appear + disappear. They close at night! Of course! 

The recognition felt like a message:

• the drawing in is where the power lies
• the drawing in enables the resilience of the beauty
• the drawing in is at least as beautiful as the outward facing beauty

Love,
​Jane

How are you feeling? I wish I could listen to your reply.

I'm horrified. I'm sad. I'm bewildered. I feel like we've been living in a state of defeat for years. I've been feeling like less words are necessary. I'm less interested in reading things that end up where I already know I am. 

We know that we need to dig in right where we are. When I feel like that's not helping, I try to remember the light experienced:

• having a short conversation made me feel connected...they probably felt that too
• going to a county dems meeting reminded me that there are others who think similarly, have already been hard at work, are paying attention, are fired up + ready to go...my presence probably did the same for them
• receiving a response from my representative reminded me that I can communicate + be heard...she may have received a bit of encouragement + strength from those words
• digging trenches for potatoes + settling each mass into the soil felt like hope for the future...this act was participation in the regenerative abilities already in each potato

We are here to participate in our mutual flourishing. Yours matters to me.

Much love,
Jane

This week's everyday climate action seems to have a theme of connection. The more connected we feel to the land, our food, our things, the weather and, most importantly, to each other...the more we will be motivated toward climate action. Slow down. Move in closer. Take notice. Connect the dots. Let it sink in deep.

• 99 :: keeping those onions regrowing :: changing the water + keeping the roots submerged
• 100 :: planting the garden :: connecting with where food comes from...which means people...weather...pollinators...
• 101 :: observing, connecting with, and caring about the creatures with whom we share our neighborhood
• 102 :: celebrating with beeswax candles + composting them afterward
• 103 :: wrapping gifts with reusable + reused wrapping :: reusing those indigo-dyed bandanas + folding envelopes out of magazine pages
• 104 :: eating those regrown onions
• 105 :: enjoying zero-waste treats out + about...served on dishes that can be washed
• 106 :: keeping those worn sheets in use a little longer 

"Gone to seed" is an expression that often takes on a negative connotation. I always sort of wondered about that, because...wouldn't we like a least a little seed for next year? But also I get it. The first time I grew broccoli, I totally missed the chance to pick + eat it...the florets flowered + it didn't really seem like food anymore. But there was still beauty to be found in those tiny, little, yellow flowers I didn't know broccoli turned into.  :)

We had a very rainy spring, and didn't end up getting out there to pick all of our plantings before they turned into things less edible...things I would have never experienced otherwise. The bok choy flowered + I decided to leave some of it for beauty's sake rather than pulling it all in shame. 

The rain had me hesitant to plant our tomato starts in the waterlogged ground. Time passed + volunteer tomatoes grew from last year's dropped tomatoes without planning or permission. They are bigger + so much more robust than the starts that waited out the weather indoors. None of the pepper plants that we started from seed indoors flourished. But there are pepper plants growing in our garden too. We found parsley last week...fragrant + tasty. I don't think I've ever planted it before. 

I may not have been the most tentative gardener this spring + early summer, but nature has always been the best gardener anyway. Flowers and recognizable plants have developed from what may have been deemed weeds as smaller sprouts. Seeds of past flowers + fruit have planted themselves. We will be eating their fruit soon...I have no doubt. I've decided to take pleasure in the surprises instead of dwelling on missed opportunities. Sometimes I just need the eyes to see it that way.

Love,
​Jane

The glory of gardening:
hands in the dirt,
head in the sun,
heart with nature.
To nurture a garden is to feed not just the body,
but the soul.
~Alfred Austin

The sun has been shining + the rain has been falling + the seeds are starting to turn into food in our little spring garden. I can't tell you how excited I was to add this extremely local, zero-waste color + flavor to the quick meal we ate last night.

The radishes + chives were the perfect addition to this what's-left-in-the-cupboard meal. Our go-to parmesan pasta got a little upgrade from a packet of miso + it was delicious. Sitting in the sun on the back step was the perfect compliment. 

Miso Pasta ::

box of your favorite pasta
packet of miso
parmesan cheese
pepper flakes
whatever extras are on hand, we used radishes + chives from the garden this time

Boil pasta + drain all but a little of the pasta water (maybe 1/4 cup). Mix miso packet into the pasta until well coated. Top with other ingredients + enjoy.

Love,
​Jane

I added a pocket in the back for empty seed packets. These have lots of information on them (like when the seeds should emerge) and remind me exactly what I bought.

Again, flexibility is key in the garden. One week of rain turned into two right when I should have been planting my spring seeds. The ground was soggy + waterlogged for days after that, so we were a little late in planting. Oh, well. We'll see what happens + appreciate the hard work we did to try. I'll keep watering our little tomato and pepper plants. We'll see what thrives and what doesn't. It's ok. We all tried our best.

It feels good to have committed to planting some possibility...to tend it...to have hope in the future. We planted bok choy, radishes, spinach and beets. We weeded the beds and cleaned leaves + debris from the strawberry plants. Pollinator + butterfly seed mixes were planted for the birds, bees and butterflies we hope to see again soon. Possibility looms + we wait with humble expectation. It feels good to hope.

Love,
Jane