How we show up

My plan for this month was to provide information on winter sowing. Last year in late January I created small greenhouses out of 1-gallon jugs, sprinkled in seeds and set them outside. This year the winter sowing isn’t happening. Not only are we experiencing an unusually long cold spell with feet of snow here in New York, but I’m preoccupied and worried. I can’t seem to focus on daily tasks.

I grew up in Minnesota. Although I’ve lived in New York longer than I lived in the Twin Cities, I still feel a strong connection to the people and the land there. In many ways it still feels like home. Like so many of us around the country, I watched with horror the footage of two Minnesota residents being murdered as they bravely attempted to protect their neighbors. I’m seeing countless images of the streets I know occupied by federal agents carrying military-grade weapons.

With this happening - along with all the other atrocities domestically and across the globe - everyday concerns seem futile and insignificant. How can I think about building this business, or gardening in general, when there is so much violence and suffering in the world? How can I ask for your attention when our country is in crisis? I don’t want to add to the noise, but I also can’t stay silent or inactive.

Last night, someone who had never set foot in Minnesota, told me that she’s in awe of the people there - thousands marching in below zero temperatures; others holding up their phones with frozen, shaky hands to document acts of violence, even when they know they could be shoved into the snow, pepper-sprayed in the face or worse; and others doing whatever they can to support those hiding in their homes. Being in community and taking action is the antidote to fear and helplessness. What we pay attention to, how we show up, and the ways in which we care for each other matter.

So the winter sowing isn’t happening. Instead, I’m talking to friends and family in Minnesota daily, I’m figuring out what I can do support the resistance, and I’m probably scrolling and reading too much. I’m also observing the seed heads on the plants sticking out of the snow and I’ve spread out my seed packets, deciding which seeds to start indoors and which will be sown outdoors in spring. I’m looking out at my tiny garden, with the belief that these seeds will sprout and grow. This faith in growth and change is what keeps gardeners going. It’s also what keeps thousands across the country marching, blowing whistles, and protecting their neighbors.