I got up at 6 AM this morning, for no particular reason. I was asleep, then I was awake, and then I thought about how nice it would be to have some coffee and read for a while.

The better half had to work, so she was up, too. I made us coffee and settled in for a nice, long read, planning to get out to the garden “later.” Later has come and gone several times, while I read about gardening, instead of actually doing it. Which is totally fine, because it’s Saturday, and everyone deserves a day of rest. I will dig and amend and plant tomorrow.

The book is Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. I’ve read it before, probably at least twice. It seems to have found a spot on my spring reading list. I already reread Farm City by Novella Carpenter, and I am half-way through The Essential Urban Farmer, although I am not nearly so grandiose. I’m a semi-competent gardener, but definitely not an urban farmer.

To me, farming is a career or a full-time job. A farmer is a professional at growing things. I grow things as a hobby, for pleasure, and perhaps to save some money. I enjoy the exercise and observing the miracle of life first hand, of enjoying the end results of health and satiety. I also abhor the labor, sometimes get bored, and resent the need to water regularly, later in the season

So, hobbyist. But I surely do enjoy reading about those more devoted than myself. They inspire me to reach a little farther, every year.


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