And so, my intention was simple this morning. To tell you that yes, indeed, General Beauregard Lee, the Official Georgia Weather Prognosticator (not to be confused with the far more famous groundhog, Pennsylvania's Punxsutawney Phil), did
not see his shadow yesterday morning when he emerged from his federal-style house at the Yellow River Game Ranch to the cheers of an adoring crowd. Which means that there will be an early spring here in Atlanta. Which is, of course, no surprise since there is
always an early spring here. And which, if you just open your eyes and look, makes perfect sense since yes, indeed, the daffodils have started to bloom.
And then I was going to tell you about phenology, about how this study of recurring, seasonal phenomena was mentioned in the most recent email I received from the National Gardening Association. Which led me to
Project BudBurst, which invites folks like us to become Citizen Scientists and help track phenological signs this spring where we live so that a collective national data bank can more accurately assess the effect of global warming on every part of the country. (And you know how I love being a Citizen Scientist!)
But then I read Lissa's post, titled
The Source of Our Debt, where she talks about how mad she has been since she watched that fabulous video called
The Story of Stuff that's been making its way around the Internet. And she finally figured out why.
Lissa's post is one of the most brilliantly written essays I've read in awhile and I highly recommend it. It centers around the fact that we as Americans only have value as consumers--and Lissa refuses to accept this narrow definition of who we are or who we could be. It somehow evoked for me the way I feel when 1000 children at the local elementary school come running out at dismissal time, all wearing stickers for the fast food company that is sponsoring that night's "fundraiser." It fueled the fire of my anger now that the cloke has been removed from my eyes about the way we are sold upriver (or, I supposed I should say
down river, because of the damage that we do to our waterways) by the lawncare companies, and every other Big Business in this country. It saddened me to remember what our government asked us to do on 9/12/01. As you know, it was
not to plant a Victory Garden. As Lissa reminded me, it was to shop. Because somehow, that was our duty as Americans.
At turns intelligent, insightful and beautiful, Lissa's essay is, to me, a truly phenological sign, a sign of stirrings in the soul that happen after a period of dormancy. And we, my friends, have been asleep. And now,
now, as the groundhog declares an early spring, we are finally waking up. And we are blooming. And we are standing up tall, one seemingly small, individual voice at a time, and collectively starting to shout, "Enough.
We are not for sale anymore."
No, this is no longer a Silent Spring.
Check it out, and let's keep the conversation going--and growing.
Also, check out FoodShed Planet this week for:
* An innovative partnership between a farmer and a supermarket
* Schemes and allotments--and how (and why) to find a CSA near you
* The Official FoodShed Planet Victory Drive press release
* Team Chicken Update #2
* A gift that keeps on giving
And more.
And so, my intention was simple this morning. To tell you that yes, indeed, General Beauregard Lee, the Official Georgia Weather Prognosticator (not to be confused with the far more famous groundhog, Pennsylvania's Punxsutawney Phil), did not see his shadow yesterday morning when he emerged from his federal-style house at the Yellow River Game Ranch to the cheers of an adoring crowd. Which means that there will be an early spring here in Atlanta. Which is, of course, no surprise since there is always an early spring here. And which, if you just open your eyes and look, makes perfect sense since yes, indeed, the daffodils have started to bloom.
And then I was going to tell you about phenology, about how this study of recurring, seasonal phenomena was mentioned in the most recent email I received from the National Gardening Association. Which led me to Project BudBurst, which invites folks like us to become Citizen Scientists and help track phenological signs this spring where we live so that a collective national data bank can more accurately assess the effect of global warming on every part of the country. (And you know how I love being a Citizen Scientist!)
But then I read Lissa's post, titled The Source of Our Debt, where she talks about how mad she has been since she watched that fabulous video called The Story of Stuff that's been making its way around the Internet. And she finally figured out why.
Lissa's post is one of the most brilliantly written essays I've read in awhile and I highly recommend it. It centers around the fact that we as Americans only have value as consumers--and Lissa refuses to accept this narrow definition of who we are or who we could be. It somehow evoked for me the way I feel when 1000 children at the local elementary school come running out at dismissal time, all wearing stickers for the fast food company that is sponsoring that night's "fundraiser." It fueled the fire of my anger now that the cloke has been removed from my eyes about the way we are sold upriver (or, I supposed I should say down river, because of the damage that we do to our waterways) by the lawncare companies, and every other Big Business in this country. It saddened me to remember what our government asked us to do on 9/12/01. As you know, it was not to plant a Victory Garden. As Lissa reminded me, it was to shop. Because somehow, that was our duty as Americans.
At turns intelligent, insightful and beautiful, Lissa's essay is, to me, a truly phenological sign, a sign of stirrings in the soul that happen after a period of dormancy. And we, my friends, have been asleep. And now, now, as the groundhog declares an early spring, we are finally waking up. And we are blooming. And we are standing up tall, one seemingly small, individual voice at a time, and collectively starting to shout, "Enough. We are not for sale anymore."
No, this is no longer a Silent Spring.
Check it out, and let's keep the conversation going--and growing.