Monday, March 9, 2009

To hippie or not to hippie

In my quest to start a garden (which still hasn't become reality) I took part in a workshop on Saturday morning about propagation. I don't know anything about gardening, so I figured starting somewhere would be a good start.

It was very helpful. The workshop was held by Urban Harvest, a local non-profit that, among other things, organizes community gardens, runs a farmer's market, holds gardening classes, and much more.

The propagation class discussed growing from seed and growing from clippings of other plants. We had some hands-on time and I brought home three little transplanted rosemary clippings as well as six newly planted basil seeds. The idea is to wait until the seedlings take root, or the clippings to show new growth, then to transplant the new plants.

The class was great, but one of the strangest things about it was one of the participants. I was sitting at a table, waiting for class to begin, when I heard someone set near me, and then I smelled her. Oh dear, I thought she was a homeless person (after all, the class took place near downtown). A woman next to me had her 11-year-old daughter with her, and while the adults were trying to pretend the smell didn't exist, I could tell that the little girl, while still being incredibly tactful, noticed it as well.

So, it's a downtown community organization, works with community gardens, maybe some less-fortunate people were in attendance to learn gardening skills as well. That's what the organization is for, after all.

Then she pulled out a laptop and proceeded to get online and take notes when the instructor began speaking. This was not a person down on her luck.

As I was explaining the situation to my husband later, he burst out laughing. "You met a hippie! You were out-hippied!"

Ha ha ha. I was wearing my grungy clothes, too, perceptively noticed by my daughter later in the day. I guess I have to rethink this whole hippie thing.

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