This post is from just over a year ago, which would usually be too soon for a rerun post; but I’m still quite happy with this one, and the things discussed in it have never been more important. The original link is here; full text is copied below.
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Growing up, I thought I had a ‘black thumb’, so to speak. I didn’t enjoy gardening. I would be forced to help my father with it sometimes; I liked the results of gardening just fine, with pretty flowers showing up in our garden, but they were decoration. I didn’t understand why they had to be so much work. And even if I knew that fruits and vegetables were the product of someone’s hard work, somewhere, I ate (or didn’t eat, as was often the case) my brussels sprouts and broccoli with no real thought about how much work went into them.
Next to that memory, though, is another, older one. I grew up in Britain, with Swiss friends — once, and only once as far as I know, did we ever go to Switzerland with them to visit their grandparents. I remember the mosquitoes, but I also remember the metal tub we had baths in (I must have been four or five at the time!). Most clearly — Monet masterwork shots, brightly lit in the dim recesses of my memory, even as the details fade into impressionist brushstrokes and shifting colors — I remember the orchard. It probably didn’t count as an orchard. The bushes and trees I remember as soaring above me were probably pretty short in real life, but I was so small at the time that it all seemed massive. I’d never seen redcurrants and blackcurrants growing before. I’d gone strawberry-picking, and seen a few wild strawberries especially when visiting Canada, but here there were strawberries, blackberries, blueberries, gooseberries, grapes, the currants least among them, and the trees full of nuts and fruits attracting birds in numbers I’d never seen before — birds that ate their fill and still left plenty for exploring, hungry, curious hands. I don’t think Gammy was particularly happy with us snacking on her trees, but she wasn’t strict about it either.
It’s fortunate that shortly after, my family moved us to Canada. I didn’t take the move well at the time, but moving from Britain — a relatively urbanized slab of land, for all that it has beautiful areas in the North and West — to Canada with its huge stretches of wilderness, meant two things among many. One, that when I did fall in love with gardening and all things that grew from the land, I was in the right place for it. And two, I was in one of the battlegrounds for indigenous rights and custodianship of the land. It’s terrible that things like water rights, land rights, etc. are still battlegrounds to begin with — but I’m eternally thankful to know the battles are even happening, instead of existing in ignorance while the Earth struggles and begins to fall apart.
As it turns out, I don’t have a black thumb; and I’m not sure anybody does, actually! I’ve grown plants a number of times now, although this past year was complicated by a little four-footed intruder in my house (Cluny the Scourge; a friend now at the Ottawa Rat Rescue. Many people know this story, but I’ll relate it in another blog post for those who don’t.) While I build up a proper edible garden, I also get a community-shared agriculture box from Roots Down Farm in Gananoque. We pay a share of their upfront costs, and pick up a box of whatever grows that year, every week; and getting potatoes, carrots and basil fresh from the ground (dirt often still on!) is almost as good as growing it myself when it comes to reminding me where stuff comes from. Everything, everything we eat is the product of labour. Meat, grain, vegetable, fruit. And the amount of labour involved! Grow your own tomatoes, wait for them to grow, and the yield will surprise you. Imagine subsisting just off of what you grow. Or, buy a box of oranges from the store, and turn it into orange juice, and you’ll be surprised at the amount. (Often a full box of oranges will give you about 2 glasses. If they’re extra juicy.)
Sometimes I say this and it makes people self-conscious about how much they eat, or what they eat. And that’s not what I’m aiming for. Thinking about what I eat and where it comes from makes me grateful, and it makes me conscious — not self-conscious. It makes me conscious of how important the labour of every single step involved is. Farm workers are critically underpaid, and often overlooked when politicians talk about ‘farmers’, who are the corporate owners of most of these farms. Food waste from grocery stores and restaurants is tragically high, especially when selecting for how things look, transportability, and just how many people will buy them. I mentioned currants earlier — how many of you have ever seen redcurrants for sale in the grocery store? I’ll imagine very few. That’s because currants spoil very quickly after picking and bruise even faster. They’re best enjoyed right after the harvest, or turned into currant juice or jelly. Similarly, the pawpaw fruit is one of North America’s only truly indigenous fruit, but it turns to mush almost immediately after picking — and therefore isn’t sold. Purple carrots and corn aren’t as consumer-friendly as the orange and yellow varieties; ugly or ‘weird’ looking carrots or peppers are frequently thrown away. Melons that aren’t striped, aren’t red enough, or maybe got a little bumpy don’t make it onto shelves. But when you grow your own or get them directly from the farm, you get to see these fruits in all their weird, diverse glory. Better yet, you get to taste them as they truly are, with no forced ripening and no time in trucks. And best of all, you get to watch something grow, poke its way out of the ground, and go, I helped that happen. I made this happen. This is mine. It’s a good feeling, and it surprised me when it happened. Even when participating in the CSA boxes, I was surprised at the feeling of accomplishment; that I had been part of this, instead of a mindless consumer at the end of the line.
Obviously it’s not an option for everybody. If you have allergies, CSA boxes aren’t generally a good idea unless you can guarantee that farm doesn’t grow what you’re allergic to; and if you don’t have any balcony or window access, growing indoors is significantly more complex. (That said, if you’re still interested and you like mushrooms, look into mushroom grow kits. They are shockingly easy.) But it’s amazing what a little bit of greenery will do, especially if you’re burned out, stressed about the state of the world, or just watching our mild winter with oncoming dread and fear. It’s not going to fix the world to grow some tomatoes or lettuce on your balcony or in your front lawn, or even just have a little lavender plant. It won’t make things worse, either; and one more plant in the world is still a good thing.
Living in Ottawa? Check out some of the CSA box programs here: https://justfood.ca/csa-farms/ (List hasn’t been updated since 2022; I’ll be making a 2024 list for Bytown Anarchist in the next few months.)
Living in Ontario? Here’s some local seed companies:
https://www.oscseeds.com/
https://hawthornfarm.ca/
https://treeseedlings.com/ (trees & shrubs)
https://onplants.ca/our-plants/ (Ontarian native plants)
Living in Canada?
https://www.rainbowseeds.ca/store/c1/Featured_Products.html (New Brunswick)
https://www.westcoastseeds.com/ (Vancouver)
https://wildwood.express/collections/seeds (Also has an American site)
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Elliott Dunstan 