Sometimes mistakes don't make any sense. Other times they really do seem to happen for a reason. I had penciled in my daybook that September 16th was our 100 Mile Community Kitchen meeting at Tupper. I made a blush sangria with local white wine and fruit: overripe peaches, plums, and strawberries. I waited by the door, and no-one came. There's a couple of ill-kept patches of plants near the road that aren't a part of the new garden, but have been there for some time. I noticed a patch of flowers that had gone to seed (brown-eyed Susan's, I think), so I broke off the seed heads and put them in my bag.
I was pleased to see that people were using the new healing garden. A group of young boys were hopping from boulder to boulder in an improvised game. An older man sat reading a newspaper. Less than a year ago, that garden was a part of the street. Now it's a meeting place.
I decided to head home, but as I walked past the fence that encloses the outside woodshop, a man asked if I found any herbs in the garden where I was collecting seeds. I told him there were some wild roses and rudbeckia, but I hadn't seen any herbs. He thought there was some mint up there to make tea from. "I like to have some when I'm carving." He invited me in to see his work--beautiful masks made of satin yellow cedar. He let me touch them and explained the designs: spirit bear, eagle, and raven. He showed me a Coast Salish feat dish shaped like a seal that he was finishing for his coleague and explained why they have to be lined with skunk cabbage leaves. The oils from the wood will seep into the food and make it taste bad. Cedar oil is a deterrant against rodents, which is why the longhouses were made of cedar. Apparently people who don't grow up in an environment with cedar can be quite allergic to it.
He had a gentle voice and a calm manner. His wisdom and candor shocked me because I am so to the urbane small talk of the big city. He said that he asked the students to touch the wood of the totem pole outside the school and feel itself power. Then he explained that now that they had touched the wood, they were responsible for it. It has been vandalized in the past with fire, but maybe his lesson will make a difference. What a gift it was to meet him. I came back and looked at my e-mail. Sure enough, I had made a mistake in the date. One of the best mistakes I've ever made.
Sometimes mistakes don't make any sense. Other times they really do seem to happen for a reason. I had penciled in my daybook that September 16th was our 100 Mile Community Kitchen meeting at Tupper. I made a blush sangria with local white wine and fruit: overripe peaches, plums, and strawberries. I waited by the door, and no-one came. There's a couple of ill-kept patches of plants near the road that aren't a part of the new garden, but have been there for some time. I noticed a patch of flowers that had gone to seed (brown-eyed Susan's, I think), so I broke off the seed heads and put them in my bag.
I was pleased to see that people were using the new healing garden. A group of young boys were hopping from boulder to boulder in an improvised game. An older man sat reading a newspaper. Less than a year ago, that garden was a part of the street. Now it's a meeting place.
I decided to head home, but as I walked past the fence that encloses the outside woodshop, a man asked if I found any herbs in the garden where I was collecting seeds. I told him there were some wild roses and rudbeckia, but I hadn't seen any herbs. He thought there was some mint up there to make tea from. "I like to have some when I'm carving." He invited me in to see his work--beautiful masks made of satin yellow cedar. He let me touch them and explained the designs: spirit bear, eagle, and raven. He showed me a Coast Salish feat dish shaped like a seal that he was finishing for his coleague and explained why they have to be lined with skunk cabbage leaves. The oils from the wood will seep into the food and make it taste bad. Cedar oil is a deterrant against rodents, which is why the longhouses were made of cedar. Apparently people who don't grow up in an environment with cedar can be quite allergic to it.
He had a gentle voice and a calm manner. His wisdom and candor shocked me because I am so to the urbane small talk of the big city. He said that he asked the students to touch the wood of the totem pole outside the school and feel itself power. Then he explained that now that they had touched the wood, they were responsible for it. It has been vandalized in the past with fire, but maybe his lesson will make a difference. What a gift it was to meet him. I came back and looked at my e-mail. Sure enough, I had made a mistake in the date. One of the best mistakes I've ever made.
1 comment:
Lovely story. You are living in the moment.
MB
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