This series will present a quest for another aesthetic that began in childhood when I was uprooted from the beauty of Brittany to live again as the child of immigrant engineer and nurse in Illinois.  It is the smell, taste, ease and view of sustainability that is my quest. In certain circles, that view is phrased as wabi sabi, in others the patina of centuries stoically born on farm house and barn door.

I will write about my life in Boulder foothills when protests at Rocky Flats were more than trails through nuclear meadows and my dentist advocated for the removal of mercury fillings before its time.  i wil touch on the creek path I rode with son in tow to the university community garden.  I will write about the yuppie boomer women post gold rush who birthed herbal remedies into the national market place.  I will write about the co-opting of vision for profit and glory. How did sexy makes its way into the fiber of healing?  Who wields power in a world gone mindful on moon beams of make-believe?

I will write about journeys to spice markets and amazonian arboreal canopies.  I will write about the disarray of intention in community and the audacity of pioneering organic farmers.  I will spend some time with wholesome earth-centered home builders and the boomer permie vegan types where outrance is in vogue.  I will always linger on my grandfather’s wooden shoes out in his potager with their well-worn felt liners.

I will probably write about my camper girl life with my upcycled RV and how my hands went from elongated grace to the wide side of a handy man. No callouses yet.

photo:  bee in hosui blossom in the Asian pear block at White Buffalo Farm 4/20/14 © 2020 creative commons by author