There are parts in me that recoil a bit from the sprinkled-in bits of American culture (like the TV reporter’s gooey superficiality), the romantic yet ‘primitive’ hippie-roots lifestyle and certainly the drudgery of gardening (for example battling pests or droughts or committing to the huge amount of establishment work when the climate is less benign than in southern California). On the other hand though I know of the sensual delights of harvesting and eating fresh food or the wonderous, patient amazement when seeing the tiny seed unfold into a stout and potent plant. All those aspects of beauty in the end pulled me into the power field of the ‘homegrown revolution’, making me see what is possible and feeling the urge to act stirring in the anaesthesia of the ‘easy life’ of shopping and consuming. It’s a much deeper and endlessly more meanigful dream, I have to admit.
[Thanks to my wonderful friend Helena, who drew my attention to the Dervaes family, the ‘Urban Homesteaders’ in Pasadena, California]
