Future
To see the beginning is a great gift even though not everything survives. These are seeds the Chloe Uptown, planted by Evan.
A food forest. A way to exist surrounded by chickens. A way to watch life unfold and realize that you are a part of what you cannot see beneath your feet. I got to sit with Erin today, to listen to her share her experience about giving clients what they want and need while not being self conscious about charging for her years of experience.
She gave her time to me for free. Not even a cup of coffee. She asked me to consider who my ideal client might be. I think of somebody who is creative, who likes to explore, who knows the importance of cooperation. I think of somebody who does not want to waste, who is able to put much of what they use back into the earth.
She spoke of a shift. She spoke of the word content. A word neither of us favor. She spoke of what she believed, of getting a woman with children connected to the health of themselves and the ecology around them. We shared the experience of what happens when a client becomes excited.
I have photos sent to me of seeds that have popped up, of cuttings that have started to leaf out. I have gotten to go into situations and find the best way to plant and plan and consider what this space might become in the future. I am able to see possibility in everything I encounter.
I am able to see this same possibility in myself, to take each day and find out from whom I might learn. There are so many out there. There is so much more to know.
Back to the shift. Away from nonsensical videos that keep people engaged to a steady stream of educational information. So I consider what I have to offer. I consider the education that I can give around acclimation, around seeds becoming suited for the place they grow. I have a palette upon which I am able to paint, a mass of carbon interspersed with nitrogen fixing cuttings and seeds. I would like my client to see, to believe that after some point, no inputs will be needed. The mulch and compost will be grown right along with the natives and food producing plants.
My future self wrote me a letter today. He said you may not believe this, but you worked with some people from over on Michoud and you developed a longan that now grows throughout the streets of the 9th Ward. He told me that the house where I now live in his time is called The Original CRISP. He said to start telling people once again what that acronym means and that I should never hesitate to welcome anyone, never deny an attempt to learn, even if my preconceived notions tell me otherwise.
CRISP stands for community research into sustainable permaculture.
Erin taught me that after the consultation I will need to know what my next steps will be. She said to always start with what I know for certain. I know how to heal soil. I know some of what will grow and produce fruit. I know about walking into a place and seeing the Southwest corner.
“I get so excited,” I said.
“Show that excitement,” she said. “Excitement is contagious.”
And so it is. The possibilities of doing more with what I have, for my own knowledge and in turn to pass this on to those I work with. I wonder whether anyone reading has ever drank papaya leaf tea. I wonder whether anybody has steamed the young leaves of mulberries. I know that I will forever keep a moringa tree outside my back door, to harvest and add to every meal.
People appreciate being led. People also appreciate learning along the way. And I appreciate learning with others.
A few days ago, Evan sent me a photo of a bean that had just popped through the ground. He asked if he should water.
I said, “Does it look green and happy?”
He said, “Yes.”
“Then you can leave it be for now.”
This is the great gift that I will be able to deliver, to help somebody hear the song of a plant, to turn up the volume on what has thus far been a murmur, so that the person might hear a sweet falsetto voice and know we share the same notes.
