Potatoes, Horseradish, and Other Gifts

Some years ago, when winter was coming to an end and spring was still soggy and cold, I discovered a lone organic potato in my kitchen. I have to specify that it was organic because conventionally grown potatoes are much less likely to root and generate offspring. This sad little potato was dried out, wrinkly, and way past edible. At least six little rootlets were beginning to form on the skin, and so I decided to try an experiment. I cut that little potato into six chunks, each containing a single rootlet. I dug a trench in the garden on the far side of our backyard, and dropped each of the pieces into the trench, about 1 foot apart. Then I covered them with dirt and waited. Continue reading



Reflections on Weight

Here’s something I’ve been thinking about lately: When we English speakers talk about our weight, we say “I weigh xxx pounds.” As if you have a say in the matter, and you could dial in what you want to weigh when you wake up in the morning. Not. We’re not machines — we’re dynamic creatures who are always adapting and responding to our environments. And what we weigh is a reflection of those environments, no matter how supportive or challenging.  Continue reading




Thyme for Some Sage Advice

The holidays are a particularly meaningful time to think about the most valuable gifts that we receive. I’m talking about the words of wisdom that are passed along from one generation to the next. Around the holidays, a few years ago, a few of my friends from work got talking about our grandmothers’ old-fashioned expressions, beliefs, and bits of sage advice. You may think these expressions are quaint and old-fashioned, but they are really much more. These sayings are the collective wisdom of our ancestors, the survivors. Here are a few of the ones for which I am most grateful. Continue reading





Lucky Enough

An old friend of mine is lucky enough to live at the confluence of two small lakes. I hope I’m using that word right — what I mean to say is that if you look out the windows of his home toward the east you see one lake; and if you look toward the north you see a different one. Can you picture it? On the little spit of land that juts into the space between the two lakes, right next to where families of ducks and swans cross all the day long in a patient parade of parenting, sits a small cabin. And in the front window of that cabin rests a sign:

             “If you’re lucky enough to live on the water, you’re lucky enough.” Continue reading